Laws of Attraction
by laurelnola
Summary: The Doctor knows what Clara doesn't- his time with her is almost at an end. The only thing he doesn't know is how he'll ever find the strength to let her go. Companion Piece to "Finders Keepers" and "Dinner at the End of the Universe."
1. Chapter 1

12/Clara

Humor/ Romance/ Hurt/Comfort

Summary: The Doctor understands everything, except what makes human females tick.

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 **A/N: Since when do I write Whoffaldi? No one was more surprised than I was! I blame Peter Capaldi, whose adorkable Twelve I have grown to love as much as I did Eleven. But I should have known it would happen, as the Doctor is nothing if not a sneaky so-and-so. :-) Hope you enjoy!**

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"Why did she say it like _that_?" he asked her, frowning as the shapely legs of Miss Park disappeared out the door.

Clara was finding it hard not to smile, seeing him lean against the desk in confusion, arms folded, his long legs crossed, and giving the impression of looking as out of place as… well, an alien in a school classroom.

She gave the Doctor another quick glance out of the corner of her eye while she washed her blackboard.

"Like what?" she asked, feigning ignorance.

"You know… _Biology_ ," he said, mimicking Miss Park perfectly, raising his thick eyebrows and flipping imaginary long hair over his shoulder.

She pressed her lips together to suppress the giggle. "What? She was telling you what subject she teaches."

"She was giving me a… a…" he stopped, looking utterly bewildered.

"A what?" Clara asked, grinning freely now.

He lowered his voice and said conspiratorially, "A come-hither stare."

She laughed then, unable to help it.

"I mean, why would she be giving me a come-hither stare, when I've given her no indication that I would _welcome_ a come-hither stare…?"

Clara's eyes rolled. "Okay, first, stop saying 'come-hither.' And secondly, she was just letting you know she was available."

He stared at her, open-mouthed. "For what?"

Her grin was broad now, even while she continued to clean the board. "Biology lessons, I imagine."

If she'd told him to sprout wings and fly, he would have looked less confused. "What would I need those for?" he said hotly. "I know the biology of your species better than you do."

And now he had her attention. Clara put down the eraser and turned to him, eyes beaming with amusement.

"Come again?"

He gesticulated towards the door. "I know things that pudding-brain couldn't imagine about human biology."

She sighed. "Miss Park isn't a pudding brain, Doctor. She's a perfectly nice lady who teaches…"

"A subject I know more about than she does!" he said puffing.

Clara folded her arms, because she really had no idea how he managed to be so insufferably arrogant and endearing at the same time.

"What makes you think you understand human biology better than a human would?"

He straightened, pulling down the lapels of his coat. "Well, I _am_ a Doctor."

"An alien doctor."

"And besides that," he said, completely ignoring her, "I'm not just _a_ Doctor, I'm _the_ Doctor." He pointed a finger at her. "It's on my payment stubs from UNIT, ' _The_ Doctor', you can check."

Clara's mouth quirked. "Yeah, I know."

"I'm one of a kind."

"Well, you're thirteen of a kind, but yes, I get your meaning."

"So you tell me one thing about human biology that I don't already know," he challenged.

Her smile was slow. She'd been waiting for this conversation for what felt like centuries.

"How about _why_ Miss Park was so interested?" she said sweetly.

"Eh?"

"Come on, 'the Doctor'," Clara teased. "You're the expert. Why was she so interested in a man she just met?" He goggled at her, so she amended. "In fact, let's make it easier. Why are nearly _all_ the human women you meet so interested in you, do you think?"

She didn't add, _and are always ready to jump into your damn snog-box without a second thought_ , hoping it wasn't in her eyes.

The confused face changed, relaxed into the confident smirk she knew so well. "That's easy," he said, nodding slightly.

"Is it?"

"Of course," he said jovially. "It's my car."

And now it was her face that wrinkled in confusion. He hadn't owned a car for several incarnations, so far as she knew.

"You mean Bessie? That yellow roadster?"

His frown matched hers. "What? No!"

"Then what are you..?" Her eyes, widened, then glinted with amusement. "Oh. You mean _her_."

The Doctor beamed proudly. "Well, you've got to admit, the TARDIS is pretty impressive. And over the years, I've noticed that human females are often impressed by a man's mode of transportation."

Clara gaped at him. "You're kidding me, right?"

"What?" he countered, defensively. "You tell me who else has got a car that's bigger on the inside, or can travel through time!"

Her grin threatened to escape again. "Yeah, that's really not it."

"Of course that's it. How many times do I have to tell you- _nothing's_ sexier than my TARDIS!"

Clara's eyes rolled again of their own accord, and she sighed, giving him a pitying look.

"It's _not_ the TARDIS?"

"Nope."

"Meeting other species, standing on different worlds, _traveling through time_ , that's not it?"

She shook her head.

"Well, it's not _me_ ," he blustered, then looked more worried than if a fleet of Daleks had just entered the room. "Is it?"

Clara smiled at him.

"It's not!" he insisted, and now Clara moved closer to him, her grin spreading across her face.

"Would you like to know why?" She could see doubt written all over him, which was why, she knew, he was trying to cover it with sarcasm.

"Oh, please, enlighten me."

Could she love this man any more?

"It's this," she said, tapping his head.

"My hair? I know it's quite nice, but..."

"Your _brain_ , Doctor, has made the universe tremble. So even when you put a girl in the most dangerous, most life-threatening of situations, you also manage to save her in the end using little else but your wits and a screwdriver."

He stared at her, his mouth hanging open slightly, then finally blustered. "Well, I mean the alternative is dying, so it's more of an instinct than anything…" he stopped and shook his head. "My _brain_?"

Clara shrugged, still smiling at how clueless the most brilliant man she had ever met actually was.

"Think about it. When an alien race comes out of the clouds, or out of the sea, or out of St. Paul's cathedral for that matter, the safest place to be is…." she paused gesturing to him, "…next to you."

"But… next to me is where the gun is usually pointed," he said, and Clara again had to smile.

"Well, there is that, too. But human women are programmed to find a mate who's the best gamble for their survival. And you, Doctor, who have made entire species shake in their alien shoes, you have the power to make her safe from every conceivable threat in the universe. I don't know how, but women always seem to sense it. And _that_ , trust me, makes you _very_ attractive to women."

His jaw was so slack, she noticed, it was practically on his chest. "You're joking."

"Basic biology."

"Good lord."

"Yep."

" _Good lord._ "

"I know."

He stared ahead, still leaning beside her against the desk, then turned. "Being clever, that's all it is?"

"That's it."

"It's not my sparkling eyes or anything, you're sure?"

"Quite."

There was a long pause, before he finally said, his voice almost imperceptibly lower, and something else.

"And do _you_ think I'm clever?"

Clara looked back at him and realized what the something else was. Vulnerability. The something he allowed himself to be so very, very rarely, and usually, only with her.

Her smile returned. "As a matter of fact…. I do. But that's not the reason I travel with you."

"But you're a human woman, and you just said…."

"I know, but that's not why for me. It's not your brain. Well, not just your brain."

His eyes were so hopeful that it nearly sliced her in two.

"What is it, then?"

This time, she placed her hand over his chest. "Because I see wonders in your heart."

She said it without thinking, bantering back and forth with him the way they so often did. But immediately, she felt the effect of her confession, the rapid beating of the twin organs in his chest, moving in double-time. And just as suddenly, she had to suppress the almost overwhelming urge to lay her head there.

When he didn't move away, staring at her like he could barely believe what she was saying, she gathered her courage, and finished. "Your wondrous heart and your beautiful soul, Doctor."

At her last words, she felt him flinch, the tiniest of movements, but it was there.

"I don't think my soul's all that beautiful."

She'd been wrong. It turned out that she loved him even more than she had ninety seconds ago.

"Yes, it is. And I've seen all of it, so you'll just have to trust me on that one."

He stared ahead again, and finally, she let her hand drop back to her lap, leaning beside him. Had she said the wrong thing? Had telling him how beautiful she thought he was only made him uncomfortable? Or touching him? It was often so hard to tell how he'd react.

It had taken her a long time to learn that while the first Doctor she'd met had been downright enthusiastic about touching Clara at every opportunity, his body constantly betraying how he felt when his words didn't, it was the opposite for the man he was now.

Now, though he actively tried _not_ to touch her, his _words_ were so intimate they nearly knocked her over.

 _Do you think I care for you so little that betraying me would make a difference?_

 _When do I not see you?_

Clara shivered slightly, remembering, and marveled at the fact that, without laying a finger on her, even without the constant brushing of his lips against her skin that he used to do, he still manged to caress her, all the same.

She chanced a glance at him again and saw that he was deep in thought, his hands shoved in his pockets, fists balled.

"I wish I'd known that a few centuries ago," he said quietly."Why they always seemed so eager to follow me."

She let out a sigh, because, being who he was, he was now slow-dancing with guilt, one of his favorite companions.

"Throw themselves at you, you mean?"

The Doctor shifted uncomfortably, squaring his shoulders. "Well, yes, I suppose. I always have _tried_ to make sure they knew what the boundaries of our relationship are. It just seems that, as I've gotten older, _I've_ been the one to let those boundaries… slide."

A flash of faces zoomed through her mind, as Clara recalled all of the young, and not-so-young women that, like she, had found him irresistible. And yet, she felt no jealousy of them because she understood him so well.

Chancing it, she put her hand on his shoulder, and said softly, "It's not a crime to get lonely, Doctor." She nudged him slightly. "And anyway, maybe you just realized that boundaries can be overrated."

But if she'd meant to comfort him, it seemed to have the opposite effect. His shoulder tightened beneath her palm, and when he turned to face her, his face was very serious indeed.

"Or maybe sometimes you meet someone who makes keeping those boundaries up…. impossible."

Clara was sure all the air had left the room. It only seemed to exist in his eyes, where she couldn't have looked away if she'd tried.

"Have you met someone like that recently?"

His eyes refused to leave hers, as well. "Depends what you mean by recent. I think I might have met her two thousand years ago."

Her heart lurched, because he was talking about some other…

"She helped me steal my TARDIS," he finished, and her heart lurched a second time, because he _wasn't_ talking about some other..

Clara swallowed. "She sounds brilliant."

"She is."

This wasn't happening. Could this be happening?

"And what would you do if you saw her right now?"

He didn't even pause. "Everything I'm not supposed to."

That was when she fell off the desk.

* * *

 _To be continued_ …


	2. Chapter 2

Laws of Attraction

12/Clara

Humor/ Romance/ Hurt/Comfort

Summary: The Doctor understands everything, except what makes human females tick.

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 **A/N: Many thanks for the reviews letting me know you're enjoying the story! They definitely help keep me writing!**

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Chapter 2

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"Clara!"

She squeezed her eyes tightly, before glancing up at him from where she sat in a heap on the floor. "Um, can we pretend that didn't just happen?"

But the Doctor's hands were already heaving her back up to the desk, releasing her immediately as soon as she was righted. His eyes quickly began roving her for signs of injury, because she knew he would never rove over her body with his hands to find out.

"Are you alright?" he asked, tilting his head to check the back of her neck as though it might have been damaged from a simple slip to the floor.

Clara brushed the hair from her eyes. "Doctor, I landed on a different part of my anatomy."

He looked at her, confused, then his eyes widened as he glanced furtively at her backside then back at her, bristling uncomfortably.

"Well, your spine is still connected to your neck, so it wasn't out of the realm of…." He stopped and cleared his throat. "You're sure you're not hurt?"

 _Only my pride_ , she thought. _And my stupid fantasy of how you were looking at me just a moment ago._

"Tip-top," she said, trying to laugh, because even though he _had_ been gazing into her eyes just seconds ago, almost (she hardly dared think it) _leaning_ towards her, the moment had crashed into bits just as she'd crashed to the floor. From the corner of her eye, she could see his body had gone back into its usual rigid posture

"Well, that's… that's good," the Doctor said, looking down at his hands, seemingly not knowing what to do with them, before folding them over his chest, then deciding to shove them in his pockets.

They sat in awkward silence before Clara sighed.

"So," she said, "What did you want to do tonight?" _Unless you'd like to start talking about all the things you want to do with me again_ , she thought hopefully, and then cursed herself for even having such a thought, since it was so fruitless.

 _Loving that willpower, Oswald_ , she told herself.

The Doctor frowned at her, then seemed to think for a bit. "Well, there's a Pirate Festival on the Moons of…"

"Wait, pirates?" she stopped him, broken from her reverie. "As in _avast-ye, me hearties_?"

The Doctor tilted his head slightly. "Well, yes, but they're not dangerous."

She smirked at him. "Yeah, that's what you said about that planet inhabited by gerbils."

"Ah, well, in retropsect, I probably should have checked to make sure they weren't in the middle of a famine."

Her grin was genuine now. How she loved watching his mind work. Even though he was no longer leaning towards her, watching that magnificent brain whir nearly made up for it. Almost. Mostly…. Or actually not at all. But still she smiled.

"Okay, so how are the pirates not dangerous, then?"

"Because they're two feet tall."

"The gerbils were two inches tall."

"Fair point," he agreed. "Any other ideas?"

Clara's eyes rolled a bit. She wasn't really in the mood to contemplate the biology of two-foot tall pirates, even if they were having a Festival, when she'd just been considering the biology of humans and Time Lords, which was an altogether more interesting topic. It was just a pity that Time Lords weren't like human males, who, her mother had always assured her, were most easily attracted by…

"As a matter of fact, I do have an idea," she said suddenly, looking straight ahead.

"Excellent, what is it?" he said brightly, and when she turned to face him, his face was eager.

"I'm going to cook for you," Clara said.

The Doctor's face immediately fell.

"Ah, right. Well," he stammered. "I don't know that that's strictly necessary.."

"Doctor," she said, sighing.

"…because, you know, the TARDIS can supply anything that we…."

"Doctor.." she warned.

He looked up, sheepish. "Yes?"

"I don't burn _everything_."

He considered this, then nodded. "That's true."

"See?"

"Sometimes it's half-raw."

She let out a huff of frustration. "Look. I'll do the cooking on the TARDIS. The Time Winds made a perfect turkey last time, remember?" she said, then frowned. "At least," she said, her voice slowing, "I assume it was perfect."

His brows furrowed. "Don't you know?"

Her eyes rose to meet his. "No, I….I never got the chance to… taste it," she said softly, and swallowed, because it wasn't just that fateful Christmas turkey that she'd never gotten to try, it was years with the Doctor, the ones he'd stolen from her when he'd sent her back. She'd only been back at the table for a few minutes when the TARDIS had reappeared, her hopes and her joy surging back in glorious seconds before she'd realized it was Tasha Lem flying the ship.

No, she hadn't gotten to taste any of the life she'd wanted when she'd begged him never to send her away from his side on Trenzalore.

She lowered her gaze because she didn't want him to see it all, written plainly in her eyes that he could read as easily as a book. But looking down, she saw his hands ball into fists inside his pockets. It was something that happened rarely with the man he was now, as though he'd spent the last thousand years of his life learning to control the flailing limbs that practically defined his last incarnation. It was as if he'd been determined to master any physical reaction that might give him away this time around.

"I see," he said quietly, and she felt her mouth quirk because she was afraid that he really did. "Well, then," he continued, "I have a compromise. You choose what to cook and I'll choose where we eat."

Clara felt the smile coming back. Even when he saw through her, he rushed to make everything alright again. "You'll really let me cook?" she asked.

"Of course, the TARDIS has got an excellent infirmary."

Her grin spread. "See you at 8, then," she said, and picked up the sponge to finish washing the blackboards, because if she kept on looking at him, she was going to burst into tears at how much she felt, and how much she knew she wasn't supposed to feel.

"Oh, and bring a toothbrush," he added, heading for the door.

She turned, then. "What for?"

"For spending the night," he said airily. "I'm not going to eat and drive."

"That's drink and drive," she said, sighing. "And you can't get drunk."

"No, but I can get poisoned."

She threw the sponge at him, which he dodged easily, ducking out the door, then peeking back around the frame. "So plan on spending the night, just in case."

He was gone in a flash and this time Clara was grateful. She didn't want him to see that the words, "spend the night" not just requested but ordered by him, was making a slight flush crawl up her neck, just as surely as the Doctor was now crawling through the TARDIS, getting ready for her.

She sighed, shaking her head. Well, if he didn't want her cooking, there were other ways to his male hearts. Clara hadn't spent so much time around the Doctor without learning a trick or two… thousand.

She picked up the sponge again and slapped it against the blackboard, her face flushed and determined.

"I'll put you in the infirmary, alright," she muttered, still unable to keep from smiling. "When I strangle you with my bare hands."

* * *

 _To be continued…_


	3. Chapter 3

Laws of Attraction

12/Clara

Romance/ Hurt/Comfort

T

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 **A/N: Okay, dear readers, here's the thing:**

 **Ever have a story that starts one way and then takes a manic u-turn? Yeah, seems to happen to me a lot with these characters. The upshot is that this story kept veering me back towards the premise set in a ficlet I recently wrote,"Finders Keepers", despite my best efforts. If you haven't read that one, it might make less sense. The good news is that (if you haven't read it), it's a little one-shot, and not a multi-chapter, so you can glance over it and be all clued in. :-)**

 **Also, the rating is about to change to T, so just want to make sure you're properly warned. Once again, many, many thanks to all who are leaving reviews. They feed the writing every single time. nom-nom-nom. Enjoy!**

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Chapter 3

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"What's _that_?"

They both said it at the same time.

Clara had walked on to the TARDIS holding two bags of groceries from the market.

The Doctor was holding a tray with what looked like ingredients of his own.

She put the bags down with a huff. "You said I could cook!"

He held up the tray eagerly. "Yes, and I realized you _can_ with these," he said, smiling brightly. "I picked them up on Ceres Prime, where all of their produce is self-cooking!"

Clara's eyes narrowed. " _Doctor_. I could have managed."

The Doctor ignored her, setting down the tray. "Why do things the difficult and bodily risky way?"

"Because that's your preferred method for everything?" she countered, lips pursed.

"Fine," he said, stepping over to her. "What did you get?" He peered into the bags she'd brought, and made a face. "Looks like the ingredients for a curry."

"You said you liked curry."

"I was being polite."

She snorted. "There's an idea."

"Look, if you're going to ask me to take my life in my hands, at least let me take you to a market that's a little more exotic than the Tesco Express around the corner from your house."

Clara made a noise of resignation. "Alright, I suppose you do eat Earth food all the time for my sake."

"Hence the excellent infirmary," he reminded her, picking up her shopping bags and throwing them down to the lower level with a clatter. "There's never any harm in trying something new."

"Traditionally, with you, it's usually harmful," she said, unable to help smiling.

"Yes, that's what I said," he agreed, eyes twinkling in the way that simply melted her every damn time.

Really, getting whisked through time and space to get the grocery shopping done wasn't the worst way to start off an evening. She wrapped her hands around her own arms, trying to look exasperated with him and failing spectacularly. As the TARDIS whirred, she wondered if there would ever be a time when she'd get tired of running absolutely anywhere, just to be near him?

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It looked hauntingly familiar, much like the market they'd once gone to soon after they'd met, where she'd found a crying, lost little girl who had turned out to be the Queen of the planet on which they'd landed.

As she and the Doctor walked past the winding lanes of stalls, she couldn't help but remember glimpses of that day- the way that he'd held her by the shoulders, gently leading her outside the TARDIS to see the wonders of a new galaxy for the first time, how he'd barked at an alien to negotiate a flying motorcycle, and had held her hand without any reservation, as though he was just as thrilled to touch her and she was to be touched by him.

The memories washed over her as they walked, and a sudden thought occurred to her.

"Doctor," she said, looking at the stalls of goods, "We won't have to give up anything meaningful to pay for stuff this time, will we?"

He glanced at her, confused for just a flicker of a moment, then shook his head, flashing her a sardonic grin.

"This planet takes a more universal currency," he said. "In fact," he dug into the inside of his jacket. "Here," he said, holding up a coin the size of a penny and putting it into the pocket of her blouse. "That's enough to buy this entire street, if you wanted."

"It looked tiny."

"Well, so are you, and yet you're usually pretty valuable to me," he said, as though it was the most obvious fact in the universe, and making her blush straight to her toes. "So why don't you do the food shopping while I go put more money in the parking meter for the TARDIS."

"There was a meter?" she asked, jaw slack.

"Well, of course, it's market day," he said, then scowled again "Honestly, after all she's done for you. It's a good thing you weren't in charge of the parking or she might have gotten towed."

Clara's eyes rolled at him. "Nothing could lift the TARDIS."

"They could if she let them to punish me for leaving her in an unpaid parking spot."

"Fine," Clara sighed, smiling. "Go take care of your car, I'll get the food."

He nodded. "Oh, and get something for a picnic. I've got a great spot in mind."

She eyed him suspiciously. "It wouldn't be because picnic food involves less cooking, would it?" she called after him, watching him hurry away.

"And apples, if you can find them."

He was gone before she could protest.

* * *

Clara hadn't gotten far before stopping at a stall that was stacked high with glittering bottles.

She stopped to admire them, the way the liquid inside changed colors from amber to scarlet and back again. The vendor moved closer to her, as if sensing a sale.

"Looking for some wine, madam?"

Clara smiled. "Maybe." It wouldn't be a bad idea for a picnic, even though, as she'd pointed out, the Doctor could never enjoy it in quite the same way a human could. But then, she was somewhat gratified that at least now, unlike his last incarnation, he could take a sip of wine without spitting it right back out again like a pre-schooler.

"We have everything, for every occasion," the man assured her. "Wines as old as the galaxy, and some with stars still waiting to be born inside."

She followed his hands as they pointed out vintages, until a small bottle, emerald green, the exact color of the Doctor's eyes once upon a time, caught her eye. If she hadn't known any better, she could have sworn it was winking at her.

"Ah, now this," said the man, picking up the bottle and setting it in front of her, "is an interesting little cordial. It let's you feel someone else's memories."

Her eyes shot up. "It what?"

"Yes, it's very rare. You drink this, and then if you touch an object, you'll feel a memory of the last person who touched it. It's actually a big seller at the Restaurant at the End of….."

"You'll feel something they felt?" she interrupted, mouth going dry.

The man was looking at her curiously, no doubt wondering why her voice had suddenly dropped to a whisper. "Well, one memory, anyway," he explained. "Maybe two, if they're 'specially powerful ones."

Clara looked down at the vial, her curiosity rising up like a powerful cloud.

The Doctor had been the last person to touch the coin in her pocket.

"Tell you what," the man told her. "I'll let you try a sip first, to see if you like it."

He unscrewed the top and poured a small amount into a tiny glass, taken from underneath the counter. Clara felt herself licking her lips, even as she knew her thirst wasn't for liquid but for something far more precious- the chance to see inside the mind of the Doctor. What would it be like to peek inside that brain of his, to see as he saw, know what he'd felt during any one of thousands of times he'd confounded her, or lied to her, making her want to stomp her feet to know, just _know_ what he was thinking, for bloody once.

The Doctor's memories, there for the viewing. Or one of them, anyway. Two if she was lucky.

"Is it safe?" she asked, and the man laughed.

"When has finding out what other people are secretly thinking ever been safe?" he said, chuckling.

She thought of the Doctor, and the way he'd been looking at her back in her classroom. Had it been her imagination, the way he'd stared? He'd never tell her in a million years, would never admit it, even when every nerve in her body had been so sure that he'd been thinking…..

And before she could stop herself, she picked up the glass and drained it, before reaching into her pocket to hold the coin.

* * *

 _to be continued..._


	4. Chapter 4

Laws of Attraction

12/Clara

Romance/Hurt/Comfort

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 **A/N: This chapter is the reason for the T rating. So if that's not your cuppa, skip ahead, it won't really change the direction of the story. Thanks to all for the faves, follows, and reviews!**

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Chapter 4

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It hit her like a train. Or, more accurately, it hit her how the Doctor had always warned it would be if anyone tried to link with his mind- like having a piano dropped on her head.

Thoughts whirled around her and she was in the center of the tornado, as though she was standing in the middle of an old-fashioned zoetrope, with images circling her, enveloping her, sucking her downwards. How could anyone think so much at once and not explode?

In fact, she had the frightening suspicion that if she hadn't once been the recipient of a million lifetimes' worth of memories, stretching her brain beyond normal human limitations, her mind might actually have collapsed.

She closed her eyes to steady herself, and then opened them, concentrating on one of the flickering lights, just one. _Forget the thousand and concentrate on the one_ , she'd often heard him say, when talking about their chances for escaping yet some other deadly situation.

 _Just one…_ she thought, concentrating. _Show me just once what you were thinking when you didn't want me to know…._

Without meaning to, she once again remembered the way he'd looked at her, only hours ago in her classroom, and suddenly she saw herself, walking down the empty corridor of Coal Hill, laughing and looking up at the only person whose memory this could be.

"Thanks for picking me up early," the image of herself said happily, holding her books to her chest as they walked.

When was this? She wondered. It definitely wasn't this afternoon, because they hadn't left the classroom. She tried to spot a calendar on the walls of the school, but realized that she couldn't tell when this had happened. Coal Hill was deserted, so she couldn't even tell by the ages of her students. He'd picked her up straight at the school (once it was empty) so many times that this could have taken place at any of them- mere weeks ago, or much, much longer. She was wearing her favorite tartan dress, one she'd owned for years, and wore so often it was a miracle she hadn't worn holes in it.

"I'll just change out of this on the TARDIS, yeah?" the image-Clara said, putting down the books and smoothing that very dress, just as they reached the blue box in her classroom.

 _Want to tear it off of you…_

She felt it, rather than heard it, and there were two hearts in her chest that were beating faster, despite her willing them not to.

 _You can't know what you do to me…how I can still taste you…._

The thought shot through her head, predatory and desperate all at once, a whimper in her mind. And as she saw herself stop and bend over to pick up a stray piece of paper one of her students had left on the floor, she felt sudden heat so full of passion, of _possession_ , that it nearly overwhelmed her, along with a fresh rush of images of grabbing her from behind, and keeping her in that exact position so that he could…..

Clara jolted out of the memory, nearly dropping the coin.

She worked to steady her breathing. It couldn't have been real, it simply _couldn't_. In all their time together, he'd never, ever given any indication that he…saw her… like… someone he was dying to…

She shook her head violently, and looked down at the coin in her hand. It was defective. It had to be. Because even though she'd walked down the corridors of Coal Hill with the Doctor many times, even before he'd regenerated, she…

Clara stopped.

 _How I can still_ taste _you?_

Her mouth dropped open as she wondered what in the hell that could have meant. When had the Doctor ever… she blushed to think of it… _tasted_ her? And just as suddenly, as though the coin was still pumping his memories into her, she remembered all the times his lips _had_ brushed against her skin, her cheeks, her forehead, her palms, back when he'd been a different man.

When he'd been the Doctor who constantly touched her, it was true that she'd often, so very secretly, wondered if it wasn't just her imagination, that he sometimes looked at her the way she looked at him. Not just adoringly, but _hungrily_.

Had he ever, maybe just that once, hungered for her in a way that she'd so often dreamed of being his? Of putting his knobbly hands on her hips and pulling her against him, finally letting his mouth explore more than just the chaste areas of her body, and, most of all, of leaning in to kiss her so that she could breathe in everything she loved about him?

Had he really felt that, too, even if just for that one, fleeting moment?

Clara's own heart was pounding, and she was surprised when she felt a tear sliding down her cheek. She looked down at the coin in her hand and choked back her own emotions.

Because, a lifetime ago, it seemed they'd come _so close_ to being something more…

And now she wasn't his at all. She was just his carer, companion, the person who desperately still loved him, even while he had so clearly moved on from wanting her in any other way than that of friend.

"So, do you want it, then?" asked the vendor, who was studying her face with apprehension.

"No, I… I don't think so," she said, amazed that she could sound so calm. "It's a little more than I can handle."

Wishing for the impossible was for fools. And if the Doctor had taught her anything, it was never to be a fool.

"Fair enough," said the man with a disappointed sigh. He put the bottle back on the shelf, and began looking past her for other customers.

Squaring her shoulders, Clara pocketed the coin, and set off to find the Doctor, wiping her eyes free of her tears and the memories that had summoned them.

* * *

 _To be continued….._


	5. Chapter 5

Laws of Attraction

12/Clara

Romance/ Hurt/Comfort

T

* * *

Chapter 5

* * *

The TARDIS seemed noisier than usual, as though the sound of her _not_ asking him all the millions of questions racing through her mind amplified every whir and groan.

 _It's in the past,_ Clara thought. _I promised myself a long time ago that you and I would be impossible…._

Her brain seemed to want to argue with her. Because the truth, written in big, neon letters across her heart, was that whether he was whirling in a bow-tie, or still as granite and scowling at her, she loved him. Even Danny hadn't changed that, despite the fact that she'd tried desperately to love only him, plan a future with him that didn't involve sailing through the stars.

Perhaps it was because while Danny had made her feel calm, grounded, the Doctor had never stopped making her feel _alive_. Even now, she was plagued with dreams that caused her to wake abruptly. She dreamt of everything that could never happen- of the Doctor flashing her a blue-eyed stare that melted into a smile, his hand outstretched, waiting for her always. She'd take his hand and his silver hair would suddenly become brown, his chin wider, his eyes greener, and he'd pull her into his arms the way he used to. So many touches, kisses, caresses that used to be hers, and she'd taken all of them for granted.

She closed her eyes, and listened to the sound of the Doctor's footsteps on the cold metal floor of his ship. He was happy, she could tell. She knew him so well that she could determine his mood just from the sound of his footfalls, the swish of his coat, and the force with which he touched the controls of the TARDIS.

She let her gaze drift down to the spot where he stood, slim shoulders relaxed, his long legs standing casually, as though he was about to start whistling. Her heart swelled a bit, knowing that he was happy, for apparently no other reason than that he was with her, taking her on a picnic somewhere in the vastness of time and space.

She looked down at the basket he'd dug out of a closet, and felt her lips curve into a half-smile.

"You could have let me make more than a couple of sandwiches, you know," she called down to him. "Technically, that's not even cooking."

The Doctor flipped a switch on the TARDIS controls, not bothering to look up. "Technically, I told you that I'd choose where we ate. And where I chose required portable food."

She couldn't help her smile. He was still impossible.

"Alright, but stopping at that other planet for crisps was a little insulting." she said, coming down the stairs with the basket.

"You can't be too careful, that's my motto," he replied soberly, checking the view-screen.

"That's the opposite of your motto," she informed him with a smirk.

"That's what I said," he countered, just as the TARDIS came to a shuddering halt, and the Doctor looked up, smiling eagerly and moving quickly over to the doors.

It didn't even matter to her that her cooking terrified him more than a league of Cybermen. Right now, she was running with the Doctor, who was showing off for her, taking her somewhere wonderful just because he thought it would make her smile.

The thought warmed her. How was it possible he could always make her feel that way, she wondered, filling her up with so much joy that she'd often have to hug herself, since he so rarely allowed her to hug him.

"So where are we?" she asked, moving over to the door with him. "The writing of the Shadow Proclamation? The parade of the four-breasted mermaids of Klaxon 6?"

He looked at her askance. "Four-breasted mermaids?" His heavy eyebrows rolled. "Sometimes I think even the universe can't compete with what goes on inside your head," he said, pointing a finger at her temple.

Clara grinned at him. "Where are we then?"

And slowly, his smile returned. "I thought we'd try someplace a little closer to home," he said, opening the door for her.

When Clara stepped out, it was into the green countryside of England, the sun shining down on fields, dappled with sheep and emerald hedges. _No wonder he'd wanted a picnic_ , she thought.

"Wow," she said, smiling as the Doctor led her to a large, flat rock that looked down from their perch on the hill. "And a castle, too," she noted, gesturing to the lovely stone turrets rising up from the structure that stood proudly in the center of the valley.

"Yes, it's a pity it doesn't have a swimming pool and seven squash courts like the castles belonging to _some_ people," he told her, spreading out the blanket and sitting down, reaching for the picnic basket.

"Alright, your big blue castle's still more impressive," Clara laughed, joining him on the rock, and taking the sandwich he was holding out for her. "Although I have to say…."

"Yes?"

"I thought it would be somewhere a bit more impressive than just a short drive from my house."

He frowned. "Well, I…"

"Don't get me wrong, it's very nice," Clara assured him quickly.

"Yes, but it's also…"

"And perfect for a picnic," she said, taking a bite of sandwich.

"It's Camelot."

Clara choked on the first bite, and the Doctor looked at her askance before gingerly reaching up to pat her on the back.

"Camelot," she sputtered. "As in _the_ Camelot?"

"Well, I figured since you were such a fan of Robin Hood, Camelot might not be far behind on the list."

"Safe bet, that," she agreed, nearly laughing with amazement. She let her widened eyes roam over the fabled, tiny kingdom of Camelot, remembering all the legendary tales that she'd devoured with glee as a young girl.

It really shouldn't have surprised her that the Doctor was, once again, making her dreams come true. And yet, as always, the things he showed her took her breath away, despite her thinking that nothing could shock her at this point.

"Camelot," she said aloud, to make herself believe it was true. "I can't believe it."

The Doctor looked pleased. "I'm glad you like it."

"But I really thought Camelot was a myth."

"You thought Robin Hood was a myth."

"No, that was _you_."

He waved her away, taking another bite of his sandwich. "You, me, same difference."

"It's not the same difference at all, it's…"

"My _point_ ," he said, interrupting her, "is that there was a real Arthur who inspired the legend. And there was, in fact," he said, gesturing to the castle in the valley below, "..a real Camelot. One that existed so briefly that it was lost to the ages."

"You mean, Arthur, and the Knights of the Round Table. All of that happened?"

"Well, it was sort of oval, but yes."

"Lancelot and Guenivere, that happened, too?"

The Doctor shifted slightly, crumbling up the empty napkin of his sandwich. "Yes, them too."

She eyed him carefully. "What's the matter?"

And now his eyes refused to meet hers. "What? Nothing."

A thought began to form, and it was the one that always seemed to rise up in her brain when he looked this furtive: _What did you do?_

"Doctor, you didn't have something to do with that, did you?"

He went even more rigid. "Ehrm."

Clara closed her eyes, and counted to ten. "There was no Lancelot, was there?"

The Doctor's mouth twitched.

"Because I'm looking at him," she said with a sigh.

"Well, she never told me she was married!" he burst out. "And certainly not that she was married to the very nice bloke I'd just spent the day jousting and drinking with, and joining his chivalry club with the crazy secret handshake," he finished, making a complicated waggling motion with his fingers.

Clara squinted at him. "The Knights of the Round table had a secret hand-sha…" she stopped and scoffed, "Okay, not important. Would this also be why we're sitting a safe distance away from Camelot and not actually walking around in it?"

The Doctor studied his napkin as though it was the most interesting thing he'd ever seen. "That's possible."

Clara sighed. "Just out of curiosity, which you was it that caused the downfall of an empire, might I ask?"

"Er, you'll have to be more specific. To which empire are you referring?"

"This one!"

"Uh…" he paused, thinking. "Fourth? No Fifth."

She rolled her eyes. "Why is this not surprising one me one bit."

"I honestly can't tell if that's a question."

"You see!" Clara exclaimed, flinging her hands. "This is exactly what I was talking about. It's like you can't go anywhere without women throwing themselves at you! Even when it results in the fall of a whole kingdom!"

The Doctor held up a finger. "Hey, that was not entirely my fault. Arthur's tax system had people in revolt long before Ginny took off her wimple for me, if you get my meaning."

"Oh, very clearly," Clara said, lips pursed.

"Well, I'm just saying."

"Yeah, please don't, is what _I'm_ saying," she countered briskly, looking back at the fabled land of peace and sighing once more.

They stared together and after a long moment, Clara said, "Hang on, if you were Lancelot, then who was Merlin?"

The uncomfortable shifting returned, so she pressed. "I mean, the man who sees time backwards, that's got Time Lord written all over it."

He gave her a long stare, then sighed. "He kept the 'M' in his name, anyway."

Clara brought her hand to her temple. "So the whole war with Merlin helping Arthur to go after Lancelot.. was just about your ex-friend-slash-nemesis trying to kill _you_ for the umpteenth time?"

The Doctor's face was grim. "Unfortunately, he's always liked the theatrical."

Clara thought of Dany Pink and the millions of graves that had been desecrated by Missy just for the show of raising an army against the Doctor, and found she had to work to steady her breathing.

But then, she also thought of what she would have felt if Missy had succeeded. She imagined if, instead of every grave on earth rising, it had been the Doctor's grave, cold and still, that had been the result. She shivered slightly. No, that would have been a hell not even worth imagining. And that was when she realized she'd moved closer to him, so close her arm was brushing his.

"I'm glad Arthur didn't win, then," she said finally. "Even if Camelot didn't last."

She expected him to move after a few moments, because he rarely let her keep physical contact for more than a few precious seconds, but instead found that he was as still as she was. In a fit of daring, she laid her head against his shoulder, and was even more surprised when he let her.

The rough cloth of his jacket brushed against her cheek, and she inhaled the fragrance that always seemed to cling to him- the leather of his chair in the TARDIS mixed with the sharp, peppery smell that seemed to be all him. She sighed against his shoulder, suddenly content for no other reason that he was alive, despite all his enemies' attempts to kill him, and all the bodies that had fallen in his wake.

"Was she worth it?" Clara asked finally.

He moved slightly under the weight of her head, and it took him a long time before he answered. "Let me ask you something instead," he told her.

She looked up at him, despite losing the lovely contact with his shoulder. "Anything."

"Do you think Arthur should have just let her go? To save his kingdom, should he have let her go, no matter how much he wanted her for himself?"

Clara studied his eyes, because he seemed to be saying something terribly important, something that had nothing to do with the legend of Camelot. But he'd asked the question so she tried her best to answer.

"I don't know. She loved Lancelot, or…" she stopped, gesturing to him, "you."

"She loved Arthur, too."

Clara shrugged. "Maybe it was too hard for her to choose?"

"So he should have chosen for her, you think?"

She smiled. "What, between a wise old king and a handsome young knight?"

"Well, maybe she didn't know how the wise old king felt about her, that she was the first and last thing he thought of between waking and sleeping, that she was the reason he kept trying to _be_ a good king," he said urgently. "Maybe she didn't know how much the wise old king needed her, possibly much more than the knight did.."

Clara laughed. "But _you_ were the handsome young knight, weren't you?"

The Doctor stopped, and his head seemed to sink under an enormous weight, one she couldn't see. "I suppose I was."

"And as we've already covered," she said, wondering why that sadness had suddenly come into his eyes, wishing she could take it away, "who could resist you?"

He seemed to consider her words. "That's true."

"There, see? Modesty and you, like oil and water," she joked, but was too relieved to see that dull grief leave his face, to see a glimmer of hope return to the features of his beloved face. A face, she suddenly noticed, that was now looking at her intently.

"Which one would _you_ choose?" he asked her, and it suddenly seemed as though he felt the fate of the universe hung in the balance.

His blue eyes were full of fire, and in them, Clara could see everything about him that made him so unbelievably dear to her. It had always been that way. When she'd seen all the versions of him that had existed, she had seen the aging of his soul in his eyes, from the day he'd been a much younger traveler through space and time, to the day he'd had to choose between unending war and destroying his own planet, to this moment, where every scar he'd endured was laid bare for her.

No, she couldn't have given up her wise old king. No matter what kind of young knight Danny Pink had been, she knew she still would never have been able to let go of the ancient, wondrous man who had whisked her off into the wonders of the universe, whose body was so close to her now she could almost feel his hearts beating beneath his skin. Was that what he was asking? That she would have chosen him in the end, over Danny? His eyes looked so hopeful, and yet so terrified of her answer, and she wished so much she could ease whatever pain was wracking him now. So she told him the truth.

"Don't you know" she said softly, laying her head on his shoulder once more. "I would always choose the Doctor."

The breath he'd been holding slowly released, and his voice was half-sad, half-amused with resignation as he whispered. "Clara, that's absolutely no help at all."

She smiled and held more tightly on to his arm.

"Every lonely monster needs a companion," she reminded him. "I guess you're mine."

He looked away, as though shielding his face from her. Then, after a while, he chuckled. "Well, you are monstrously bad at cooking, I'll say that for you."

"Oi," she laughed. "It's a good thing you like to live dangerously."

"Yes, because you just _hate_ that sort of thing" he smirked at her , and then straightened, standing up from their perch and reaching out with his hand. "So maybe we should try a different spot to finish the picnic."

She brightened. "Really? Where are we going?"

"Where do you think?" he said slyly. "To the parade of four-breasted mermaids." He smiled, and so did she.

"I wouldn't miss it, Doctor," she countered, laughing, and taking the hand he offered. _I wouldn't miss anything with you._ Because the truth was, she would follow him anywhere.

* * *

 _to be continued..._


	6. Chapter 6

Laws of Attraction

Twelve/Clara

Romance/ Hurt/Comfort

T

* * *

 **A/N: Deepest thanks to all those awesome people leaving reviews. I appreciate every one and they always inspire me to hurry the next chapter along! I know this one's short, but the next one will be much longer, so the wait for it will be a bit more. Many thanks again, you lovely readers, you.**

* * *

Chapter 6

* * *

She nearly skipped into the TARDIS with him, so light did she suddenly feel. Maybe it had been fate that she'd stopped at that stall with its psychic cordial, giving her that glimpse into one, tiny fraction of the Doctor's memory of her, a memory that was either going to haunt her forever, or maybe… maybe show her that her dreams weren't so impossible after all.

 _I'm not on the phone, I'm right here… standing in front of you,_ he'd once said to her, when she'd still been mourning the Doctor she thought had vanished, the one who had so eagerly held her like she was more than just his companion, but something infinitely precious.

 _Please, just see me_.

Maybe he'd been asking her to see him the whole time she'd been so determined to love another man. Maybe that was why he'd asked her so urgently which man she'd choose.

As she watched him moving the controls of the TARDIS, she found herself ascending the stairs, heading towards the spot where he liked to sit and read. She touched the leather of his chair and suddenly flopped down on it, wishing it was his arms instead of the sides of the chair that wrapped around her.

"Tired?" he called up. "We don't have to finish the picnic somewhere else."

"No," she said, almost dreamily. "I'm actually wide awake."

 _Take me anywhere you like_ , she thought. _Take me in this chair, if you want_. And then she blushed so much she was sure her face had caught on fire.

He cocked his head at her, frowning slightly, then murmured, "Alright."

Clara took another calming breath, letting her gaze wander around the TARDIS as he took her to yet another surprise destination. She saw the rows of books, all written in different languages, some older than planets, as full of ancient knowledge as he was. She saw his desk where a stack of papers was piled haphazardly, as though he'd thrown them to the ground in a fit of pique, and then grudgingly picked them up again. It was so like him to…

She stopped, because that was when she saw the blackboard.

Apart from Clara herself, she knew, that board had become his favourite companion. She'd seen him working away at problems on it, always muttering to himself, his brow furrowed as his brain worked to solve a puzzle even he couldn't seem to understand.

But more than that, it had been one of the biggest secrets he'd kept from her.

Many times she'd asked him what he was working on, asked him to tell her this obviously worrisome problem with which she could help him, if he'd only let her. And every time he had refused, one time even going so far as to angrily tell her she was the last person who could help him with this.

She'd huffed out of the TARDIS then, and hadn't seen him for days.

The blackboard nearly glittered at her.

And the coin was still in her pocket.

* * *

There was no guarantee it would work. She had no way of controlling which memory she might get, even if she got a second one at all.

And besides, after what she'd learned in the first one, she was a little afraid she might not survive the knowledge of a second memory. But as she looked down at the Doctor, standing at the controls of the TARDIS, her hands fisted. He'd wanted her once. Even if he hadn't loved her as she loved him, at least it hadn't all been in her head.

Was he trying to figure out if she wanted him still, now that he wore a different, older face? The thought was laughable to her, since all she'd had to do was look in his eyes and see the soul of the man to whom she'd been so drawn. Just as he hadn't been able to tell if she was young or old when they'd been sucked into a deathly dream-state, it was the same for her. Through green eyes or blue, he was simply her Doctor.

But maybe _he_ hadn't ever been sure of how she felt, especially since she'd tried so hard to form a life with someone else. Was that why he'd acted so insane sometimes, even for him, acting like a jealous ex-lover one moment, a scowling headmaster the next, and (best and worst of all) like someone whose company was so effortless it was as though they'd spent their whole lives together?

Was _that_ the equation that his timey-wimey brain thought could be determined through math on a blackboard, the question of whether they had a future together?

She glanced at him again, her heart soaring. One last bit of magic in that coin, that was all she needed. One more peek into the question that had plagued _her_ since the moment he'd regenerated…

 _What am I to you, now?_

Then, taking a breath for courage, she walked over to the blackboard. Placing one hand on its surface, she closed her other fist around the coin in her pocket.

For a moment, she thought she hadn't moved, because all she could see was the blackboard. Until she realized she was seeing it from at least a foot higher from where she'd been, and saw hands reaching up, arms clothed in black, white cuffs peaking from the edges, fingers scribbling away at the problem with which he'd been wrestling for months.

The tornado inside her head was whirling again, but this time, it seemed to be more focused than before. She didn't know whether it was because the Doctor had been more focused when this memory had happened, or because she'd become better adept at navigating the explosion that was his capacity for thought. But she watched as his fingers raised to the board, scribbling as calculations she didn't understand whirled through her mind.

 _Can't lose you…_

The thought shot through her, only she realized it hadn't been in English. It had been some other language entirely, some beautiful-sounding, ancient language. His language.

She'd heard his thoughts in Gallifreyan, and some remnant of her echo's life as a Time Lady must have still been in her own memory banks because she'd known what he'd said.

Frantically, she watched his fingers fly through more calculations, writing symbols that made no sense to her as he cursed and erased and wrote again. Her heart twisted, because even if she couldn't understand everything he was thinking, she could feel his desperation, and it could only be for one thing, the thing that mattered most to him in the universe.

He was trying to find Gallifrey.

She heard another batch of words that her brain was able to translate: _timeline_ … _paradox_ … and she closed her eyes inside her mind that was his mind, his pain blooming in her own veins, until she heard a word she didn't recognize.

He repeated it over and over again in his head, and Clara struggled to remember what it was, because when he thought the word, his body nearly burned with longing. What could make him feel so desperate, she wanted to cry, and then nearly stumbled when she realized what he'd been saying.

 _Wife._

* * *

to be continued...


	7. Chapter 7

Laws of Attraction

Twelve/Clara

Romance/ Hurt/Comfort

T

* * *

 **A/N: Oh. My. Stars. Did you see?! "If you love me in any way…." I'm not sure I remember anything after that because I probably fainted. This season is going to slay me before it's over, it really bloody is. Also, I know I promised a longer chapter, but honestly, it's hard to write angst when you're busy flailing around like a happy muppet because of heavy-handed innuendo on a sorta-children's television show. The important thing to remember is... these two knuckleheads so clearly love each other I want to shake the TARDIS until they fall to the floor together, lock gazes, and fade to black (because it's a sorta-children's show). *tiny squeeing*  
**

* * *

Chapter 7

* * *

 _Wife …._

The word pummeled her, like gusts of wind in a storm, and she suddenly caught flashes of more memory, the feel of skin against skin, a glimpse of dark hair as his lips found the back of a woman's neck in the moonlight, an explosion of light and the feeling of hands intertwined as he bound his hearts and his life to hers… and the sound of children laughing as they ran out of a forest, bathed in sunlight, running towards him, and his body nearly burst with joy…

Clara's eyes shot open, her own heart nearly stopped, as she was yanked out of the memory. Gingerly, she steadied her breaths, wondering if he'd heard. But he was still below, moving around the control panels, seemingly unaware of her shaking.

She hadn't heard the rest of the memory, and she quickly pressed her hand to the coin once more, trying to determine the rest of it. But the coin's power had finally been snuffed out. And as she realized what she must have been seeing, she felt his desperation once again, so much it nearly brought fresh tears to her eyes.

 _Oh, Doctor. You're not just trying to find Gallifrey_ , she thought. _You're trying to find her._

She realized with a start that he'd been telling her this secret in every way imaginable since the beginning, and she simply hadn't wanted to listen.

A rush of her own memories played through her head, each one like a light suddenly flicked on in a dark room. She remembered the time he'd been standing behind her in her room, waiting to take her into the TARDIS, impatiently fidgeting while she sat at her dressing mirror, putting her hair up in a ponytail. Catching his reflection, she'd dared to ask him:

 _"Did you ever figure out why you chose your face?"_

 _"My face?"_

 _"When you regenerated. You told me once that it was a face you'd seen before, in Pompeii."_

 _His reponse had been slow. "Yes."_

 _"So who was he?"_

 _Again, he'd taken a long time in replying. When he had, his voice had been soft. "Someone who was supposed to die, along with his family." His expression had been grave when he said, "But my companion changed my mind, and for her, I risked changing their destiny."_

 _Clara had ceased the grooming of her hair, laying down the brush on her dressing table. "Didn't that blow a hole in time or whatever is supposed to happen?"_

 _"No, that was the surprising thing. Somehow they beat every paradox that should have happened. They actually lived happily ever after and the universe ticked along just fine," he'd said, his voice tinged with a hint of amazement._

 _Clara had turned to face him. "So you picked this face to live happily ever after?"_

 _But the Doctor's eyes had remained deadly serious. "I think it was to remind me that there are some things that can overcome the laws of time."_

 _She'd given him a gentle smile. "Like love."_

 _His mouth had twitched, the smallest fraction of emotion on his face. "Like love."_

She felt her breaths coming fast, thinking of the moment he'd regenerated, when she'd begged him not to change. And she understood now, exactly why he'd chosen the face of a man whose life should have been over, but had defied all the rules, and survived, even keeping his family intact in the process.

 _No wonder._

Now that he'd been given a second chance, he was trying to find the Gallifrey that existed when his wife, his family, had been alive. He was trying to go home, to the time and place when he'd truly _had_ a home, to _change his destiny_..

Clara looked down at her closed fist, which still held the coin that had contained the tiny memory that had altered the axis of her world. At the sight of one of her rings, her mouth dropped open, as she realized he'd started wearing a ring, too.

Ever since he'd regenerated, when he'd changed, not just on the outside, but the inside, when he'd begun pushing her away rather than pulling her towards him, she'd tried not to notice the fact that while he'd lost the bow-tie, he'd gained a ring- one he wore on the wedding finger.

More than once, she'd told herself it was an earth custom, and didn't have to mean anything. But the Doctor _knew_ earth customs, and so maybe he'd started wearing the ring not as a message to the world, but as a message (she swallowed her humiliation) to _her_. And to himself.

 _Clara, I'm not your boyfriend._

Suddenly, she knew what he'd been trying to tell her when they'd been sitting on a hillside overlooking Camelot. He couldn't let go of his wife, just as Arthur hadn't been able to let go of his. Despite what it might to do Gallifrey, or time itself, he was willing to break all the rules, bring down an empire to find her again.

She breathed more slowly. No wonder he'd started those calculations within hours of regenerating, had dragged that blackboard to its place of prominence once he'd gotten back on-board the TARDIS. He was trying to find a way to be with his wife again.

Clara squeezed the coin in her hand, so hard her nails dug into the tender flesh of her palm. And then she let it drop into his chair, where it fell with a soft thud.

She breathed deeply, willing the tears back into her eyes, because this time, she would not cry. There was only one thing she could do, really, the one thing she'd always been able to do so easily, despite her best efforts. She glanced down, saw him at the controls, and her heart swelled.

She loved him, and so she would help him. Even in this. Clara Oswald always helped the Doctor, so she would help him find his way home.

Even when it broke her own heart.

"We're here," he called up to her.

She swallowed, all of her love and sorrow, and told him brightly, "Let's see it, then." And she skipped down the stairs, just as she had when they'd entered the TARDIS. She wouldn't let him see how much each step killed her, not when he needed her to help him find his way back to the woman he loved more than the laws of time.

* * *

 _to be continued..._

 **A/N2: Maybe if we all screamed really loudly, "The wife is YOU, you idiot!", she'd hear us? Oh darn it, I forgot space is a vacuum with no sound. Stupid physics! Sigh.  
**


	8. Chapter 8

Laws of Attraction

12/Clara

Romance/ Hurt/Comfort

T

* * *

 **A/N: Hear me now, show: the memory of your beautiful Doctor/Clara moments might one day hurt so much I won't be able to breathe. *shakes fist at poignant, lovely, meany-pants show***

 **Where was I? Oh, right, torturing them in my own way. Yay, karma. Except I believe in (eventual) happy endings, so there! Hope you enjoy, lovely readers. :-)**

* * *

Chapter 8

* * *

"Are you alright?" he asked, as she reached the doors beside him. "You're doing that thing, that not-pleasant humany thing," he said, waving his fingers at her eyes, "where your face is smiling but your eyes aren't."

She sucked in a deep breath. "Just wondering if you really did take me to see mermaids who can nurse quadruplets," she lied.

The Doctor's own eyes scanned her carefully. "Sounds tempting, but no. You said you wanted someplace more exotic than Earth," he explained, strolling outside, waiting for her to follow after him.

Clara steeled herself, because that's just what she knew she would do- follow him until the day he dropped her off at home, cheerfully told her he'd found Gallifrey, and said his final goodbye. She bit the bottom of her lip to keep it from trembling, and smiled.

"So you brought me to a planet full of fireflies?" she said with false cheer, stepping out into what looked like a dark forest, illuminated only by the twinkling lights that flitted throughout the trees.

"Those aren't fireflies," the Doctor said with disdain. "We're on the planet of the Hada. Or what you lot call fairies," he said, as her mouth became a round 'O'.

"No way," she said, her smile real now, as the Doctor looked smug and gestured around them at the fluttering lights. "Real, live fairies?" she asked, her heavy heart nearly lifted with wonder once more as she turned, moving towards them. And as she got closer, she could suddenly see their tiny, human-like bodies, with their tapered limbs, gossamer-like hair and shimmering wings.

"Don't get too close," he warned, and Clara turned, frowning.

"Why? They're not dangerous, are they?"

The Doctor thought for a minute. "Not generally, no."

"Somehow, it's always the 'not generally' part that worries me."

"I just meant you don't want to alarm them," he said reasonably. "How would you like it if an alien who was bigger than you came to your planet and started acting like he was boss?"

She gave him an incredulous look.

"What?" he asked, oblivious. Clara sighed and shook her head, while he continued, "Just don't touch them, because I'm not sure what they'd do."

"Got it, no touching" she said, her eagerness returning. "Story of my life," she murmured under her breath.

"What was that?"

"Nothing," she called back. Really, it was hard not to be anything but in awe, walking through a woods illuminated by the fairies of her childhood daydreams. As they followed the shimmering beings through the forest, Clara was suddenly ten years old again, listening to her mother's voice as she snuggled in bed, describing the land of fairies where children never grew up- much like the six-foot tall child next to her, she thought with a sigh.

"So if fairies are really aliens," she said, as they followed through the woods, "how come we know about them on earth?"

The Doctor looked at her, surprised. "Because the Hada go to earth all the time. Haven't you ever been told not to walk through a fairy ring?"

She shrugged. "Yeah, by farmers who want to keep kids out of their fields."

His face wasn't amused. "Or because they're a portal that the Hada use to bring abandoned children from other worlds to this planet."

"Oh, come on," she said, laughing.

The Doctor merely stared back at her.

"They don't really steal _children_?!" she said with horror, but the Doctor's face was impassive.

"'Steal' is probably the wrong word. They only take children who feel abandoned, and are looking to escape. It's how the ring works."

Clara looked around at the twinkling bodies, flying ahead of them. These were the mythical creatures of her youth, the friendly fairies who did nothing more dangerous than bring her a pound under her pillow when she lost a tooth.

"But… but why?"

Now it was he who shrugged, "I suppose because they don't have children of their own, they don't even have reproductive organs. So they travel between worlds, taking abandoned children of other species back to their own planet. It's how they reproduce."

" _By stealing children_ ," she cried, outraged.

"Can you steal something that _wants_ to go?"

She sputtered, "Well, I don't know… maybe?"

"They don't keep children against their will," the Doctor explained. "I told you the portal only works if the children _want_ to come. And when they grow old and die, their energy re-materializes into a new Hada."

Her eyes were drawn to the flitting fairies once more. They suddenly seemed darker, somehow, as real, true alien beings with powers beyond her imagination, and a sense of morality that didn't always align with her human senses. They were like so many of the strange things he'd shown her- beings like himself, in many ways- beautiful, wondrous, but not necessarily _safe_.

Clara let out another breath. "I don't know how I feel about that system."

The Doctor idly watched as one of the fairies flew close to his upturned palm, then sat on it, facing him. He gave her a knowing smile. "Is it any less unusual a way to reproduce than being pushed out the body of your own species?"

She glanced up at him. "Or being woven on a time loom?"

"Touche," he said, grinning. The tiny figure on his hand finally stood up, pointed at the Doctor's eyebrows and laughed hysterically, its laughter like bells.

Clara tried not to smile as the Doctor stuck his tongue out at the sprite, who repeated the action and then flew off to join his brothers. He was missing home, too, her Doctor. Looking for the magical fairy portal that would get him back there, only there was no one on the other side helping him. No one except her.

"Erm, Doctor. Are they heading somewhere?" she asked, noticing that they all seemed to be moving in a specific direction.

He glanced up, following her gaze. "Probably to their hive," the Doctor mused, walking quietly beside her, hands shoved back in his pockets. But even in his voice, she could tell something was off, as though he was only barely aware of where they were, his mind a million miles away. And she could so easily guess _where_ his mind really was. And with whom.

"Look," he said, pointing ahead of her.

Sure enough, as she turned she could see the Hada gathered in a small clearing of the woods, flitting around one another, the music of their laughter ringing out even more clearly.

"Come on, we can get a bit closer," the Doctor said softly, reaching for her hand, which shocked her even more than the soft voice. But she let him pull her closer to the clearing, feeling the heat of his hand radiating into hers and her eyes widened as she saw them all, in sparkling glory, these ancient beings who were just one more legend that he'd shown her was true.

She watched as they formed one huge, glittering orb, then broke apart, with their bell-like laughter. "They look happy," she said, the words slipping out as fast as she'd thought them.

She felt his fingers tighten around hers, almost imperceptibly.

"They're together," he said simply. "And home."

She closed her eyes, wishing with her whole being that things were different. She squeezed her feelings back, along with her yearning for a future that didn't involve losing him to another planet, and (her heart twisted to think of it), to another woman.

Clara bit her lip. He was here with her now. That was what mattered.

"Come on," she said suddenly, taking his hand that was still in hers and positioning herself in front of him. "Everyone else is getting to dance," she said, peering up at him with a smile she hoped didn't betray everything that was in her heart.

"Um," he stammered. "I don't know if…"

"Doctor," she said sternly. "I'm not going to be the only wallflower at this party." _Oh, please, give me just a bit more, a few more memories before I lose you.._

He hesitated just a moment more, and finally his face softened. "Were you always this bossy?" he asked, smiling.

"Nope," she said softly, "that was you."

But his hand lifted to wrap around her waist, and he let her place her hand on his shoulder, and Clara almost thought her breath would stop from the closeness of him, heady and wonderful, and full of possibility that would never happen.

She wondered if she was going to have to make the first move, if he would just stand there, ram-rod straight and uncomfortable, while she pretended to dance. But suddenly, she felt his fingers tighten against his back, and he pulled her even closer, swaying slowly, left to right.

"Oh," she said in surprise, as he moved her. It wasn't because he was actually agreeing to do something as human as dancing with her, or even the fact that he was allowing her to touch him for more than three seconds. It was that not only was he letting her hold him, he was holding _her_ and he was doing it _perfectly_ , as if he knew the rhythm of her body better than she did, could predict her every step. She shivered in his arms.

"What?" he asked, his breath hot in her hair.

 _This feels like we've done it millions of times_ , she thought. _Why does it feel that way?_

But she cleared her throat. "Didn't know you could dance, too," she whispered, not daring to look at him.

"I told you, I'm full of surprises," he said back, and she felt his head lean down, so that his chin was brushing against her temple as they moved. She squeezed her eyes shut again because his skin was against hers, and there was something about it that was so easy, effortless… _familiar_.

And before she could stop them, the images of his memories came: of the way he'd held another woman, kissed the back of her neck, his joy at seeing his children running out of the woods, his pure happiness at being home with her…

This was what was in his future- his past that was going to be his future and a place where there was no room for her. And how was she going to survive it?

"Doctor?" she said suddenly, pulling back. "Maybe we should get back to the TARDIS."

He frowned, perplexed. "Is something wrong?"

She plastered the smile to her face, feeling the tightness in her forehead already as her emotions threatened to spill down her cheeks once more.

"No, I just…" she said, biting her lip and starting to back away. "I just think you were right, the TARDIS can give us whatever we want to eat…"

She couldn't be here another moment, in his arms, dancing with him as though it would go on forever, when it was what she would never have with him, what he was trying to find again with someone else. Her eyes burned and when he didn't move she released his hand.

"Clara, what…?"

"I'm fine," she said, too heartily, "It's just that I just got this dress," she babbled helplessly, walking backwards as fast as she could. Oh god, please get her out of here, let her escape before he could leave her, alone, without him… "don't want to get it all muddy in the woods, you know.."

"Clara, stop!" he said, his voice almost panic-stricken.

It was enough to make her pause. Shoulders dropping, she closed her eyes, and sighed. "I'm sorry," she breathed out, her face working over-time not to look pained. "I know you were trying to take me someplace wonderful, and it was, but I…"

"Clara," he whispered, and it was a tone she instantly knew: _danger_. "Don't. Move. A muscle."

Instantly she froze, eyes wide, and he moved slowly towards her, hand outstretched to keep her still.

"You've stepped into a fairy ring," he said, advancing by the millimeter.

She moved only her eyes, looking down and saw, at the edge of her foot, was the outer rim of a stone ring. And she'd walked right into it. Worse, she'd walked into it _while thinking of how she wanted to escape because he was going to abandon her_.

"What?"

"Don't move," he repeated.

"But it can't be dangerous, I'm already on their planet," She whispered, trying not to move her mouth except by the smallest fraction, but already knowing the answer because he wouldn't have looked so alarmed if she was safe.

"It's a _portal_ , that means it works both ways."

"On _children_. Can't it see I'm not a child?" she hissed, her eyes darting down to her chest, the rest of her still frozen where she was.

His eyes never left hers. "I told you, the Hada don't notice reproductive organs, since they don't have any. They determine if a being is a child by…Oh dear."

"Not 'oh dear'. Don't say 'oh dear.'"

"The ratio of eye-size to the face."

"The ratio of _what_?"

"It's because it's so universal," he said, inching closer to her, "Eyes are always larger in proportion to the rest of the face in the children of almost all species, including yours. It's just," he paused, gesturing towards her face, "your eyes never got smaller, apparently."

Clara's eyes grew even wider, and the Doctor's brows furrowed. "Clara, stop, you're not helping the situation!"

This time, she didn't bother to whisper. "Well, get me the hell out of here, then!"

"I'm trying!"

And now the fear began to creep in, because if he'd been able to come into the ring with her, he would have done it already. "Doctor," she whispered. "What's going to happen?"

"Erhm, three possibilities," he said, his agitation scaring her even more than the ring, all while he still circled her, his brain whirring. "The ring will either think you're a child who wants to go home again and send you back to earth, or it'll transform your life energy into creating a new Hada, or…"

"Or what?"

"It'll realize you're an adult and turn you to dust."

" _What_ was that last bi….?" She said in a panic, but never finished, because in a flash, the Doctor's horrified face was the last thing she saw.

* * *

Death felt unusually cold. And very like a tile floor.

It also oddly smelled of sprouts cooking.

"…and I'm not having those grenades in my kitchen, I don't care what you…oh, hello again."

She was sure that was what she'd heard. And when Clara's eyes opened again, she was looking up at the faces of two out of the only three people in London who wouldn't be surprised to see her materialize on their kitchen floor.

"It's the boy!" Strax cried, looking down at Clara then nudging Jenny, and puffing out his chest. " _Now_ can I get those grenades?"

* * *

 _To be continued_ …..


	9. Chapter 9

Laws of Attraction

12/Clara

Romance/ Hurt/Comfort

T

* * *

 **A/N: This is a longer chapter, folks. I initially meant to break it up into two chapters, but honestly, the show might have me an emotional wreck before I ever finish this thing, so might as well fling all I've got at you. ;-) Many thanks for all those leaving kind reviews- they are so monumentally appreciated!**

* * *

Chapter 9

* * *

She was being gently led to a chair, where Jenny sat her down, and her vision tried to clear.

"Wait right here, Miss Clara," Jenny said soothingly. "Strax is going to check you for injuries."

"No, really," Clara mumbled. "I'm fine…"

"Nonsense, boy!" Strax shouted at her. "You're swelling from your injuries already!" He exclaimed, his two potato-looking hands trying to poke her breasts back under her ribs.

"Strax!" she yelped, crossing her arms over her chest, suddenly as awake as she could possibly be.

"I think she's fine," Jenny said, turning to her disappointed-looking companion. "So go tell Madame that she can make the call, now."

"I have already done so, my dear," came the commanding, yet gentle voice of Madame Vastra, whose green form and face floated into the room. "So fortunate he keeps that line open," she said.

Clara blinked, still adjusting to the fact that only moments ago she'd been standing in a fairy ring on another planet, and was now sitting in the house of her old friends in Victorian London.

"The Doctor?" she asked, her hopes lifting as she remembered that Vastra knew how to reach the phone box in the TARDIS. "He knows I'm….?"

"Clara!" the Doctor nearly screamed as the doors to the kitchen burst open and there he stood, with bits of twig in his hair, his jacket splashed with mud. In another blink of an eye, he was at her feet, gripping her in his arms. "You're alright," he said hoarsely.

"No, he isn't," Strax said sourly, pointing at Clara. "He is swelling up like a balloon." He threw his laser gun on the table with frustration.

Clara smiled, letting her forehead fall against the Doctor's, who was breathing as though he'd just run a few miles- or crossed a universe to get to her. His hands were squeezing hers so hard it almost hurt, and she tenderly extricated her fingers to remove the tiny bits of wood in his curly hair, trying to reassure him she was alive.

"Sorry if I scared you," she said, only dimly aware of the presence of the other three.

"It would appear she's fine, Doctor," Vastra assured him, and from the corner of her eye, Clara saw Jenny's eyebrow cock, looking oddly pleased.

"Looks like they _both_ are, Madame," she said. "Not that we didn't see that coming, eh?" she added in a whisper.

"See what?" Strax demanded. "My vision is vastly superior to yours, and I see nothing! Tell me, or suffer the consequences!"

Clara nearly laughed, as Vastra sighed. "I think it's time for tea, don't you?" she said smoothly to Jenny, who nodded and smiled, watching them.

They pulled a still-protesting Strax out of the room, and Clara's hands slid down, joining with the Doctor's again, her forehead still pressed against his. He'd never held her this long, this close- not in this form, anyway.

"You're alright?" he asked gently.

"Never better," she assured him. "Now that you're here."

"Do me a favor?" His voice was still breathless.

"Name it."

"Kindly stop dying on me."

She grinned. "Right on the top of my to-do list."

And while the Doctor said nothing, it took a long while before he let go of her so that they could stand, and follow the trio into the conservatory for tea.

* * *

"So," Vastra said, as they sat on the chairs she'd prepared for them. "Die again, did we?" she asked cheerfully, handing a cup to Clara.

Clara tried not to smile. "A little less permanently, for a change."

"Most sensible," Vastra said approvingly, pouring a cup for the Doctor, then Jenny, while Strax stood at alert, scowling in the corner.

"Looks like you went a bit outdoors-y this time," Jenny commented, gesturing to the mud patches on the Doctor's coat. "Lake District?" she asked, and the Doctor nearly choked on his tea.

He looked up from his heavy eyebrows, and said darkly, "The Hada."

"Really?" Vastra said with amusement while Jenny cooed.

"Ooh, _fairies_! They are lovely, they are," she said, smiling broadly.

"Well," Vastra mused, "when they're not causing mischief."

"They are insidious insects," declared Strax from the other side of the room, "and will be obliterated for the glory of the Sontarran empire!" His face fell when everyone gave him a pointed stare, then went back to their discussion.

"Though I'm still not sure why they sent me here instead of my own time," Clara went on, gratefully sipping her tea, her nerves calming finally.

"Because you existed here, too," the Doctor said soberly. "It's what worried me, that even if they sent you back, you could have ended up anywhere in time and space, anywhere your echoes might have lived."

"Actually, it makes a great deal of sense that you came here, since this time and place has such significance for you," Vastra said, sipping her own tea.

When they looked at her quizzically, she registered surprise, as if this was something they should have noticed. "It's where the Doctor first asked you to become his companion," she explained.

Clara's eyes slowly lifted to catch his, and she knew they were both remembering that moment, when she'd been ready to change her life, because she'd unknowingly changed his. They were remembering the way he'd pressed the key into her echo's hand, his face eager and hopeful, as if he'd been roused from a nightmare and was ready to wake at last, with her by his side.

She felt herself smiling at the memory, grateful that she still had those flashes from that particular version of herself, who had so wanted to run away with the man with the blue box and funny chin.

"Bloomin' fairies," she murmured, nearly laughing, as if her cockney-speaking echo still lived inside her, and saw the Doctor smile, too, knowing he'd understand.

"Speaking of fairies, did he tell you, then?" Vastra asked, almost impishly, and Clara saw the Doctor's smile vanish and he suddenly shifted uncomfortably.

"Vastra," he said hurriedly, "I don't think she needs to know…"

"Cor, that's right," Jenny said, laughing. "I forgot!"

"Forgot what?" Clara asked, holding her tea.

"He's Peter Pan!" Jenny laughed, pointing at the Doctor, whose forehead fell against his raised fingertips, his expression pained.

"Sorry," Clara sputtered. "He's what?"

"Now, hold on, Barrie didn't get the idea just from _me_ ," the Doctor said heatedly to the two women sitting across from them. "The Hada _do_ exist, as you can plainly see," he said, holding up the remaining bits of leaves and twig from his hair, while Jenny giggled harder.

"And the young Lwellyn boy did give Mr. Barrie the abduction story," Vastra admitted.

"I'm sorry," Clara repeated, louder now as she realized everyone else in the room was part of some particular comedy that was still eluding her. " _What_ are we talking about?"

The Doctor scowled harder. "They're talking about James Barrie, the author of 'Peter Pan'."

"Arthur Conan Doyle brought him to our house to have dinner one evening," Vastra explained. "Whereupon _Strax_ ," she paused, looking over at him menacingly, "decided to tell him the story of an immortal man who took human children off to other worlds."

Strax bristled indignantly, and pointed at the Doctor. "It is not my fault he has a preoccupation with human boys!"

The Doctor sighed, his eyes rolling. "Barrie already had most of the story anyway."

"But," Clara said, frowning, "I thought he _wrote_ the story. For some young children named Lwellyn."

The Doctor shook his head. "No, no. He _got_ the story _from_ the Lwellyn children."

"And they got it, "Vastra explained, "because their great-grandfather and one of his friends actually encountered the Hada."

A memory stirred, and Clara slowly lowered her cup. "Wait, _Lwellyn_. I've heard of this. The Welsh myth, 'The Fairies' Music', of Lwellyn and Rhys, where Rhys disappeared after hearing music in a stone circle."

"Yes, only it weren't no myth," Jenny supplied. "The Rhys boy was missing for a year, and when he reappeared, he told everyone he'd been to the land of the fairies. 'Course, no one believed him, 'cept for his friend Lwellyn."

"Because he was a lying, human scum?" Strax tried.

Clara shook her head, glancing at the Doctor. "I don't understand, though. Where do you come in?"

"Do you not see?" Vastra said, smirking. "It wasn't just the fairies who enticed human children wanting to escape to leave their own world. It was also…" she gestured to the Doctor, "…the boy who wouldn't grow up."

But the Doctor's face, Clara knew better than anyone, was more than just irritated. He was angry.

"Yes, very entertaining. Perhaps next you can talk about how I once took Jules Verne to see the center of the earth." Clara's eyes widened, and the Doctor's made a noise of impatience. "That was a _joke_."

"Sorry," she said, trying not to smile.

"Not every wonder in your history has my name on it, you know. You all have quite enough imagination without me, as a matter of fact," he said, nearly snapping.

"Of course, I could arrange an introduction with Mr. Verne, if you'd like, Doctor," Vastra said smoothly. "Or perhaps H.G. Wells?"

The Doctor glared at her. "I'm going to check the TARDIS," he said brusquely, standing and setting down his tea with a clatter of china. "I think I broke half the controls trying to get here."

And with that he thundered out of the room, dropping leaves and mud in his wake.

Clara swallowed, then lifted her eyes to her hosts, none of whom, oddly, seemed the least bit put out by his rude behavior.

"Sorry about that," she said. "Long day for him."

"Yes," Vastra agreed. "At 2,000 years old, I imagine he's had a very long day, indeed."

"And anyway," Clara said quickly, feeling she ought to defend him. "It's not really like that. He doesn't steal people."

Vastra eyed her levelly. "Doesn't he?"

Clara's eyes widened. "Of course not!"

Vastra took a deep breath, looking at Clara as though she nearly pitied her. "The Doctor is a heroic man, but he is also a man who runs from the responsibility of truth, has done so for centuries. And to ease his own pain and loneliness he takes beings that are mere children compared to him, and brings them into a world that dazzles them so much they begin to forget their earthly life. Eventually, they either die or, worse, they turn into another version of him," Vastra said. "Does any of that sound familiar?"

Clara's lips tightened and she looked helplessly from Vastra, who looked smug, to Jenny, whose eyes were sympathetic. "That's not… he's not.." she struggled, but finally realized she had no way to argue except to deny. "You don't understand. He didn't steal me. Any besides…," she finished, her chin jutting, "he's worth it."

"Yes," Vastra said slowly. "I imagine every child that went to Neverland felt the same way."

"Madame," Jenny chastised her, and Vastra's green mouth softened.

"But," she said, sighing, "even the boy who wouldn't grow up had his weakness, I suppose."

Clara could feel her heart racing with humiliation. Could she feel any more like a fool? "What, pirates?"

"No," Vastra said gently, holding on to Jenny's hand. "The one person he loved."

"Wendy," Jenny said, smiling.

Clara's gaze lowered. She could still feel the Doctor's hands around her wrists, where he'd gripped her like he'd never let go, her ancient, clever boy that showed her the stars.

"I believe we might have mentioned such a companion to Mr. Barrie, too, didn't we, Jenny?" Vastra asked idly, and Jenny nodded, still smiling knowingly.

Clara lifted her eyes, her soul like lead, because Wendy hadn't gotten to live happily ever after with her magical boy, either. "Then why did her heart get broken in the end?"

Vastra's smile was broad. "My dear, don't you know? Because it wasn't the Doctor telling the story." She kissed Jenny's hand, who released it and began to clear the tea, leaving Clara in stunned silence.

"And death to pirates!" Strax added, his fist pumping, before she could even get herself to think again.

* * *

Clara tread softly into the TARDIS, holding a tray.

"I brought you something to eat," she said quietly, knowing he was probably in his chair, reading, stewing.

She looked up, and sure enough, his shoulders were hunched as he sat in the leather chair, eyebrows furrowed, a tumbler of whiskey in his clenched hand.

"I'm not hungry," he said gruffly, and Clara set the tray down, sighing.

"Aw, and here I brought you fairy cakes," she said, walking up the staircase, trying to make him smile.

He glanced up, smirking. "Maybe you should give up teaching for professional comedy."

She gently took the tumbler of whiskey from his hands, putting it on the table beside him. "Nah, saving you is more my thing," she said quietly, noting how he wouldn't meet her gaze. He looked wretched.

"Stop scaring me, then," he said brusquely, and she knew he was talking about what had happened with the Hada. But that wasn't really what had upset him. It was the idea that what Vastra had said was true, that he'd stolen her, and all his companions, for his own selfish reasons, getting them killed or worse, one by one.

She knelt beside him. "You didn't steal me," she told him.

The Doctor frowned in a way she instantly recognized- it meant he was angrier at himself than at anyone else. His mouth twitched as though he was ready to begin arguing with her, so she placed her hand over his, and told him again. "You didn't."

His eyes finally lifted to hers, roaming her face, searching for something. "Maybe not. But I have _changed_ you. And I didn't want to."

" _Life_ changes people. Stop thinking you're so important."

But he wasn't fooled. "The life I show people changes them a bit more than the garden-variety earth version."

"You don't force me to stay."

"Yes, I do," he said, his anger with himself bubbling up at last, as he leaned forward, his elbows resting on his knees, hands clasped. "I hold on when I'm not supposed to, and I tell myself that I'm just tying up loose ends when the truth is I just wanted to keep going a bit more before…" He stopped, and sighed harshly. "Clara," he whispered, his voice nearly breaking, "there's so much you don't know about what's to come. So much I wish I could tell you."

She closed her eyes, and could almost hear the words that they both knew were coming: _Clara, I have to leave you, because I've found Gallifrey at last._

"You'll tell me when you're ready," she soothed him.

"I'll never be ready," he said softly. "Because that's when it all ends."

Yes, she thought. The end was coming. Once he found Gallifrey, his new life would begin. But now wasn't the time to think of her own loneliness, but to tell him that she wouldn't have changed a thing, even if it meant losing him later.

Clara laid her hand on top of his, trying to comfort him, and, in a way, herself. "Doctor," she said gently. "I'm so glad of every day I've had with you. Don't ever think otherwise."

He searched her face once more, his expression desperate. "Clara," he said, his voice still rough with emotion. "I'm glad, too."

"So don't regret. That's not what we do. Alright?"

The Doctor sighed finally, only now she saw that _he_ was doing the humany thing, where his smile didn't reach his eyes. "Alright," he said. "You're the boss."

Clara shrugged, trying to make him smile once more. "Yeah, not really. But it's nice that you let me think so." She was rewarded when he gave a short chuckle, one that was real.

She stood then. "Come on, let's go back inside," she urged. "Vastra invited us to stay the night. And they've done so much for us, I don't want to disappoint them."

"Oh, wonderful," he said darkly. "I'll get to be poisoned by Strax's cooking, instead."

She pulled at his arm. "That's the spirit."

As he was rising from the chair, though, he paused, reaching into his pocket. "Oh, by the way," he said casually. "You dropped this earlier." He opened her palm and gave her the coin, the memory-coin she'd let fall into his chair hours ago, when she'd seen his feverish longing for his wife. She froze, looking at the tiny metal circle in her hand.

"Thought it might have sentimental value, even if you didn't spend it." His eyes bore into hers. "Good memories, that sort of thing."

He smiled then, his inscrutable smile, then brushed past her and headed down the stairs.

* * *

 _to be continued._...


	10. Chapter 10

Laws of Attraction

12/Clara, 11/Clara

Romance/ Hurt/Comfort

T

* * *

Chapter 10

* * *

She was only vaguely aware of how she'd made it through the rest of the evening. Clara's mind was like a hurricane that didn't know which way to turn.

The coin in her pocket had nearly burned through to her skin as she sat at the dinner table, making small talk with the rest of them. Short of asking him (and she would rather die a million _more_ times than face _that_ ), there was no way to tell if the Doctor knew what she'd seen as a result of the coin. Its powers had only worked on her because she'd drunk the cordial, and had only lasted a short while. But then, she thought, looking over at the Doctor, he did come from a race that was psychic. Could some of _her_ memories have been imprinted on the coin? So that he had seen through her eyes?

She blushed, remembering her reaction to his memory of them in the school hallway, the way he'd wanted her, had yearned to touch her. It would be the height of humiliation, she knew, to have him hear _her_ thoughts, to have him know she longed for him just as much, when his hearts were headed for Gallifrey, and the people he'd loved and lost there.

She chanced another peek at him, but saw only the calm, irascible expression he always wore.

"… one of my better inventions, if I do say so myself," Strax was telling him eagerly.

"You are not bringing that contraption in this house again, and that's final," Vastra snapped.

"I fail to see your objections as valid," Strax argued. "It both protects the house and makes use of the local vermin."

"It's disgusting," Jenny said, making a face.

"It's..?" the Doctor began.

"A simple rat-launcher," Strax said proudly. "Highly effective."

Clara saw the Doctor frown. "Don't you have laser-guns?" he asked.

"Yes," Vastra replied levelly. "He's taught the rats to fire them while they're being launched."

Clara had to look down at her plate to keep from smiling. She caught a glance from the Doctor, and saw his own laughter in his eyes. How was she ever going to leave this life with him?

Yet, as she glanced around the table, at this unusual group who, despite all odds, were a _family_ , her heart beat faster. _This_ was what he was yearning for, what would take her away from him in the end- the chance to have his family again.

And the truth was, she wanted that for him. Even if it meant her getting left behind, how could she not want anything that made him happy, when she loved him so much?

As they rose from dinner, she paused in front of the conservatory. There was a small fountain against the glass wall, supplying the constant humidity that Vastra needed to feel comfortable. She moved closer to it, and closed her fist around the coin in her pocket once more.

"I wish…" she whispered, stopping and glancing over at the Doctor.

Part of her wished he would find his home again, but in the most secret part of her heart, she knew full well that it wasn't the only thing she wished. What she wanted was so much more than that. What she wanted was impossible.

She dropped the coin into the fountain, and watched as it sank to the bottom. At least there, she thought, it could do no more damage.

* * *

After bidding them all good night, she quietly closed the door to her room.

Clara hadn't told the Doctor, of course, just why she'd wanted to stay, not just in Jenny and Vastra's house, but in this particular room, one she hoped would soothe her troubled mind. As she opened the door and stepped inside, the memories washed over her.

This was where the Doctor had slept, that first night after he'd regenerated.

To sleep in the bed that had been his for that one brief time- it was the closest, she thought, to getting to sleep in his arms.

She ran her fingers over the coverlet and remembered that day. When they'd first brought him into the room, he'd still been wearing his long, Victorian coat, the blue shirt that still smelled of his old self, everything but the bow-tie.

Clara closed her eyes, remembering how shocked she'd been at his new form. She'd never been upset that they no longer looked the same age. Vastra had gotten that all wrong. She had been upset because his regeneration had given him a body that looked so much more _vulnerable_ to getting hurt. And nothing was more important than making sure his life lasted as long as it possibly could. It was why she'd knelt to the floor of his Tower and begged the Time Lords to save him, not for her, but for the universe.

She'd known in that moment she'd have done anything in her power to make sure he would keep on living, even if it meant that he would one day fly away from her, leaving her behind again.

Clara smiled sadly. Vastra had been right about that, at least. He really was The Boy Who Wouldn't Grow Up.

She undressed quickly and pulled the white linen nightgown Jenny had given her over her head, then turned down the gas lamps, letting the darkness fill the room. She had a fleeting wild vision of the Doctor, flying up to her window, a tiny Hada by his side, asking her to sew his shadow back on so he could take her away to see wonders.

Clara sighed at herself. As she lay down finally, her head sinking into the pillow, it was the last thing she thought before closing her eyes. She never would have been able to resist the biggest wonder of them all, the man with two hearts, who lured people into his alien portal, making them forget everything but the magical, groaning music of the TARDIS. As she thought of his face, the clear blue eyes that had once been green, and had once looked at _her_ as though she was the most wonderful thing in the universe, she knew what she had told Vastra was also true- all she might have lost or suffered because of him was worth it.

He was worth all of it, and more.

* * *

In the bed that had once held the Doctor's sleeping body, she dreamed.

She was walking through the forest, the fluttering lights of the Hada dancing alongside her, and she knew she had to find the Doctor. She turned and searched and suddenly saw brighter beams of moonlight, where the edge of the forest must be. She hurried towards them and when she stepped out from the canopy of trees she was suddenly in a vast stretch of land, barren except for a large barn.

The fields of Gallifrey stretched around her, and when she glanced back at the barn, she saw him. His child's body was moving, trance-like, his arm outstretched towards something she couldn't see.

"Wait! Please!" she called after the boy-Doctor, hurrying after him. And it was only when she got close enough that she saw he was headed for a fairy-ring. Fear shot through her. "No! Stop!" she cried, running faster.

He wanted to escape. She knew it already. There were tears on his cheeks and his small feet moved helplessly towards the ring that would let him run and run, take the pain away. But that wasn't where he was supposed to run, and she had to save him, so she ran faster, until she was close enough to grasp his hand.

He turned towards her, his face accusing, and she gripped his fingers in her own.

"This isn't the way," she whispered urgently to him, his young body still shaking from what he'd seen in the Time Vortex. "You can't give up, you'll miss so much if you do."

But the boy-Doctor merely shook his head at her, wrenching from her grasp, and she bit her lip because she knew the only way to save him was to let the Hada take her instead.

She turned quickly, saw the moonlight of Gallifrey reflected on his pale skin.

"Don't be afraid," she told him. "I'll always be here to save you." She turned again and stepped into the ring herself, and just as she did so, the barn beside her vanished and she was stepping through the doorway of a room that was achingly familiar.

She was brushing snow from her head, unwrapping the coat from her shoulders, and when she looked up, she saw the Doctor, with his flopping-hair and bow-tie, glancing up at her from his desk, his face alight with happiness.

"Clara, you're home!" he exclaimed, jumping up and wrapping her in his arms, spinning her around the room. His voice became softer, lower as he set her down and whispered. "Missed ya."

"I was only gone for two hours," she said, laughing, because, in the wondrous transition of dreams, she knew she was meant to be there, as if she'd lived with him for decades. Being at his side was the most natural thing in the world.

"Yes, but to a Time Lord, that can be an eternity," he said devilishly, his hands still gripping her. His head lowered, his lips brushing her ear. "And do you know how many ideas I can get in an eternity?"

She shivered at the heat of his breath, the low register of his voice, and the implication that she'd be doing much more interesting things this afternoon than teaching the village children of Christmas.

"The children will be here any moment," she protested, as his mouth found the side of her neck, trailing hot across her skin.

"They can wait," he murmured, pulling her closer, pressing into her as though he was afraid she might evaporate on the spot. "Today, you are the Queen of Christmas, and you deserve a day off."

"Oh, I'm the Queen now, am I?" she asked, laughing, as he pulled a paper crown from his vest pocket and placed it on her head.

"Yes, and that makes me the King," he said merrily, "so submit to my will for a change, why don't you?"

She wrapped her arms around him again, laughing, because he really had made this tiny village a kingdom for her, one that she wished would never end, where nothing could ever break them apart, not even the war looming above.

"You daft old man," she laughed, as he bent to kiss her hands, held in his.

"Daft about you," he said, and she kissed the top of his head, never wanting to let go of him. "You saved me by loving me, Clara," he said.

She smiled, and suddenly, as he straightened, his face was different, his eyes blue, his hair curly and silver, his shoulders thinner and she still loved him. "And then you doomed me by making me love you back," he said, smiling sadly at her.

"What?" she asked, frowning, as a knock came on the door.

His hands raised to stroke her face. "Why did you curse me so?"

"I…I didn't," she protested, reaching up to hold his hands. "I love you, Doctor, I'd never hurt you…" The knocking at the door came louder.

"Clara," called a small voice from outside. "Clara, where are you?"

"The children," she said, her heart wrenching in her chest, as he looked at her with such sad eyes.

"Loving you…the only thing you couldn't save me from," he whispered, caressing her cheek again.

The door burst open, and when she turned she saw it wasn't the village children of Christmas, waiting for their lesson. It was the boy, in his Gallifreyan robes, his face anguished. It was the Doctor.

"Clara, why won't you help me?" he cried.

She ran to him, kneeling at his feet, wrapping her arms around him. "I tried. I'm so sorry, I tried!' she told him, pleading that he understand that all she'd tried to do was save him.

"I'm alone," he wept as she held him. "You promised I wouldn't be alone."

"I'm sorry," she cried frantically. "Forgive me, please, forgive me…"

"Clara," she heard his voice again, older, rougher. "Clara!"

When her eyes shot open, tears were on her cheeks, and she was no longer kneeling on the floor of his tower in Trenzalore. She saw the Doctor standing over her bed, the flickering light from the gas lamps illuminating his worried face as she woke from her nightmare.

* * *

 _To be continued…._


	11. Chapter 11

Laws of Attraction

12/Clara

T

* * *

 **A/N: Many thanks to all for the reviews, favorites and follows, you wonderful readers! :-)**

* * *

Chapter 11

* * *

"You were crying in your sleep," he said softly, and she shook her head to clear it. "Are you alright?"

She wanted nothing more, in that moment, than to fly out of the bed and into his arms. Not even when facing death countless times, had she ever needed him more. But instead she swallowed, and wiped the tears from her face.

"I'm alright," she whispered. "Weird dream."

He frowned, his face full of concern, and she noticed then that he hadn't even put on night-clothes yet. Which meant she hadn't been asleep for very long.

"What time is it?" she asked, trying to catch her breath.

"Midnight," he said gently. "I was just going to bed, myself." He gave her a wan smile. "Took me awhile to convince Strax that acid wasn't the best way to remove the mud on my coat."

She gave a small laugh. "Good thinking."

The Doctor swallowed awkwardly. "So…do you need anything?"

 _You. I need you so much I can't breathe._

Clara shook her head. "No, just… just a dream," she cleared her throat. "Fine, now."

He peered at her, then sighed. "Well, if you're sure…" he began, turning to leave.

"Stay," she whispered, before she could stop herself.

"What?" he asked, turning sharply. But she knew he'd heard, and he probably knew that she knew.

"Please."

He stared at her, so she slid to the edge of the bed, leaving a Doctor-sized empty space beside her. She couldn't look at him, couldn't face it if he simply patted her on the head like a child with her nightmare and left the room. So she turned over, facing the wall, still leaving the space for him, and closing her eyes.

And after what seemed like years, she heard him remove his shoes and jacket, then slip into the bed beside her, his back to hers. The back of his hoodie brushed against her hair, and he was so close she hardly dared to breathe. And it seemed he was feeling the same, because the Doctor's body was stiff, as if he was straining to hold himself in check.

As it did so often, the contrast of the way he used to touch her, so easily and with such warmth made her heart constrict. And it was only when she sniffled out loud that his hand reached back for hers. She clutched at it gratefully, holding tight, and after a few moments he spoke again.

"Clara, it's going to be alright," he said, but somehow the words, the sound of his voice, only opened the dam.

In a flash, she flipped over, pulling him on his back and burying her head in his chest, letting her tears fall because if she kept them in one more moment they were going to consume her. He was still as stone, letting her cry, the only movement the thumping of his hearts. And the thought that her clinging, her tears, were something he probably hated only made them come faster.

"I'm sorry," she mumbled into his chest, and something in her voice seemed to finally dissolve his armour.

He groaned suddenly, a noise of surrender, and suddenly his arms were around her, holding her close. "Clara, _I'm_ sorry," he said, clinging to her as though she might disappear at any moment. "I'm so, so sorry."

She clung back, never wanting to let go, knowing she must.

"My brave-heart girl," he whispered, and more tears came to her eyes. She felt something that might have been his lips brushing against the top of her head, and it was a feeling so unexpected, and yet so _familiar_ , she thought it would break her heart.

She shook her head slightly, because she knew she had to be stronger than this, better than this- for him. How would she ever help him find his home again if she did nothing but hold on? The thought that she really had cursed him by trying to keep him for herself only doubled her resolve.

Clara squeezed her eyes shut, even as the Doctor still held her tightly. "Doctor, do something for me," she whispered.

"Of course."

"Tell me about your home," she pleaded, wiping her cheeks, her head pressed against his chest. "When you were happy, and had…. someone by your side, tell me what it was like for you."

She needed to hear him speak of Gallifrey, to remind herself of why she was paying the price of losing him. She needed to hear of his happiness, if she was ever to have the courage to let go.

His breathing slowed, almost to the point of stopping.

"Clara, don't make me remember."

"Please," she whispered. Because it wasn't just for her. Maybe if he remembered what he was searching for, it would bring _him_ some peace, as well. "Please," she pushed again, and he looked away, the battle won.

His fingers curled against her arm, tightening, then finally he took a deep breath and sighed. "What do you want to know?"

She sighed, too, relieved. "Just tell me what it was like for you."

He paused another long while, then finally spoke. "It was dark most of the time," he said slowly. "Always on the brink of war."

 _The Time Wars,_ she thought, and then felt like a fool for not remembering.

"Were you afraid?"

He seemed to consider. "Sometimes," he said, and her heart lurched again because she remembered the scared, lonely little boy whom she'd comforted under the stars of Gallifrey.

"Was it the dark?" she asked, remembering how he'd trembled on his bed, her fingers soothing his hair.

"No," he whispered. "I never feared the dark because…..I suppose because I had all the light I needed in the person who was with me."

She bit her lip. "Someone you loved."

His fingers tightened again. "Someone I couldn't live without."

Clara swallowed, because his voice sounded wistful, almost reverent as he spoke of his wife. It was a sound that washed over her, bringing _her_ comfort. "And were you happy, Doctor?"

His breathing came faster. "I was more than happy. I was whole."

Her eyes squeezed shut, and now it was her fingers that curled around his jacket. She would give her life if it meant giving that back to him.

"I know you'll find that again," she promised, but it only seemed to make his body shrink, as though she'd said the wrong thing.

"Clara…" he said, clinging to her hand, even as he turned his head away from her once more.

"Yes?"

"Do you know the worst part about being a Time Lord?" he said slowly. "It's never being able to tell people of what we know is coming."

Clara sighed a bit. He was right. It had happened to her so often, standing among people from the past, people who were ghosts, who didn't know what horrors their future would bring: the nice woman she'd met at a tea shop in 1905 San Francisco, who would die the next year in a massive earthquake, the RAF pilot who had gallantly picked up her scarf when it blew away outside a Cambridge pub in 1943, and whom the Doctor informed her would die in his mission the next day, and the ancient tribe of nomads who had shared their fire with Clara and the Doctor, telling them about their preparations to migrate to the other side of a mountain pass, one that, unbeknownst to them, would collapse under the weight of an avalanche, killing them all.

She sometimes wondered why the Doctor had so often brought her to places where she had had to learn to hold her tongue, to battle down the will to scream out the truth. It almost seemed he'd done it on purpose, and she still hadn't been able to figure out _why_.

"You want so much to tell them," he said, his voice full of the weight of his species.

"I know," she whispered back, because she did. He'd made her understand the price of time travel, ground it into her so that it was as instinctual for her as it was for him.

"But lies aren't easy, no matter what anyone says," he said, looking down at her finally. "And worst of all, is having to lie to someone you love, to have to pretend you don't know things that are going to happen to them, or that you're still learning about them when everything they are was written into your bones over a lifetime."

Her mouth was slack, her eyes searching his, because she still didn't understand. Of course his wife was part of him. Was it hurting him because he would have to lie to her, once he found her again, to keep from telling her that one day, she would die and he'd spend centuries flitting around the galaxy, running from the hurt?

"And Clara, if you ever have to do that yourself, it will be so hard not to tell them. To not say what you know, how you feel. You have no idea how much it'll burn." His face held such torment that it wracked her, a physical pain that rose from the deepest part of her.

So she raised his hands to her lips, pressed a kiss against them, emboldened by her determination to comfort him.

"Doctor, don't think of that now," she whispered, wishing that she could stroke his hair the way she'd done when he was a little boy, instead allowing him to stroke hers. It seemed to comfort him, either way, she realized. "I know you're scared," she said softly. "I know it hurts. But pain isn't…." she paused about to say "forever", but stopped as a sudden memory filled her.

"Isn't what?"

"Pain isn't…..the _point_ ," she said softly, brushing her cheek against his fingers.

"What?" he asked, his voice breathless.

She found herself smiling, a soft, gentle smile as the memory became clearer. "It's something my Gran used to say," she whispered. "When I lost my mum, she used to tell me that when you lose someone you love, it's so easy to give in to the pain. But then you start to realize that pain isn't what matters, because it's just the other end of joy." She raised her eyes to his. "The trick is, not to run from pain.. but to make _joy_ the point. To concentrate on that. Hold on to that." She remembered his words to her from another lifetime. "And don't let go."

His eyes were anguished. "Does that work?"

She thought of him on Gallifrey, with the woman who must have loved him as much as Clara herself, if such a thing were even possible. She could see him so easily, safe, and , in his own words, _whole_. She saw his smile in her mind and the pain ebbed for the first time.

"Yes," she whispered, surprised. "It does." She held him closer. "And I promise you… you'll find joy again. I swear it, Doctor."

"Clara…" he said, clinging to her hand, even as he turned his head away from her., "… if I don't find it again… would you do something for me?"

"Anything."

"Would you come away with me?"

Her heart beat faster, because she would run with him forever, if he'd only let her. "Yes."

"You'll save me again?"

"Always."

They lay together silently then, and Clara listened to the twin beatings of his hearts, thumping away in his chest. She inhaled the sharp, leathery scent of him, and for a moment, could have sworn that he also smelled like…. Pink marshmallows. She frowned because once again she felt they had done this before- not just once, but hundreds, thousands of times.

Gathering her courage, she asked him. "Why does it feel like this?"

"Like what?" he asked, his voice above her head as she lay against his chest.

"Why does this feel so familiar?"

He was silent a long while. Finally, he whispered, "Maybe you just know me very well."

She sighed against him. Perhaps, all those moments when he'd been a whirling, bow-tie-wearing man, when he'd held her in his arms at every opportunity, those were the moments that had been written into _her_ bones. She would always feel at home in his arms, no matter what body they were in.

She buried her face into his shoulder. He seemed to know, or at least understand, because in moments his hand raised to fall against her hair, stroking her, caressing her fears away. And once again, that feeling of déjà vu crept over her. But this time, it calmed her, and after a long while, she felt her eyes growing heavy, her breathing coming slower.

And just as sleep began to claim her, she heard his voice, soft as the beating of fairy-wings, caressing against her hair.

"My Clara," he whispered, so softly she wasn't sure if he was really speaking or if she was already dreaming, "when you threw the coin into the fountain, what did you wish?"

She pressed her head closer into his chest. "To get to keep you."

Her muscles relaxed against him, safe, warm in his arms, and just before sleep drifted over her, she was sure she heard him murmur, "Wish I could keep you, too."

* * *

 _To be continued…._


	12. Chapter 12

Laws of Attraction

12/Clara

Romance/ Comfort/Hurt

T

* * *

 **A/N: Now that we've reached the final chapter (ah, you know I just HAD to end it at "Twelve", right?), I just want to thank you all so much for the the lovely comments, favorites and follows!**

 **Those of you who've read "Dinner at the End of the Universe" will understand that this story really has become the missing part of it, getting the chance to explore the depth of the relationship that grew between 12 and Clara, and how much it would have cost him to send her back to his own past. For me, this scenario explained so much regarding Twelve's behaviour- the push/pull dance with Clara that has been so incredibly intimate. If Eleven acted like her boyfriend, Twelve has acted like her** ** _husband_** **, someone who knows every heartbeat.**

 **It also might amuse you to know that there was a complete internal war going on while writing this story, where the fangirl in me just wanted to write:** ** _"_** _And the Doctor said, 'YOU'RE my wife, hi-ho, surprise! We lived out our lives on Trenzalore, which is why the Time Lords trusted you when you asked them for a miracle, but I've decided to keep you this time and worry about the paradox later. Now let's go make some hybrid babies!_ ** _'"_ ;-) Ultimately, though, I knew this was just the other side of their love story, one that made it more complete.** **  
**

 **Fortunately, Trenzalore gave us such a wonderful, timey-wimey loophole that meant Clara could both leave *and* get to live out her life with him, because no matter which face he's wearing, he is the man she loves. Really, a happily ever after for Clara and her Doctor was all I ever wanted. Once again, thank you all so much for reading, and riding this wave with me. I hope you've had as much fun as I have!**

* * *

When she woke the next morning, the bed was empty, save herself. Clara rubbed at her eyes, glancing around, remembering where she was. The watery sunlight was pouring through the window, bathing Vastra and Jenny's guest room in yellow-gray hues, and the memory of last night washed over her.

 _Gone already_ , she thought, looking at the empty side of the bed.

Maybe she'd just overslept, and he was already having breakfast with the others. Maybe he was helping Strax perfect the rat-launcher. She ran a hand through her hair and sighed. Maybe she was the biggest fool on two legs for wishing that last night would never end, and that she could stay with the Doctor for the rest of her days, sleep in his arms every night.

Suddenly she heard the clamber of feet on the stairs and a knock at the door.

"Come in?"

The Doctor's silver, curly-haired head poked through the opening. "I heard you wake up," he said plainly.

Clara's eyes widened. "From downstairs? You really _can_ hear a pin drop, can't you."

"Why would I want to listen to a pin drop?" he asked, frowning, and she smiled because it was his roundabout way of telling her that he'd been so impatient in waiting for her to wake up that he'd tuned his ears to the sound of her breathing-from an entire floor away.

"No idea," she said pleasantly, glad he was here, whatever the reason, as he stepped inside the room, hands held behind his back.

"Uh, did you sleep well?" he asked, and Clara found herself biting her lip. Was there a way to politely tell your friend that you'd slept more peacefully in his arms than you had in years simply because you were hopelessly in love with him?

She gave him a hearty salute, because she decided that no, there was no way to say it, and she was clearly the biggest coward in the universe.

"Ah," he said, just as pleasantly, while he seemed to be wringing his hands behind his back. "So did I."

Clara swallowed. Because there also wasn't a polite way to ask your friend if _he'd_ slept well because he'd gotten to hold you all night, either. Maybe she could make up some new cards that covered _this_ situation.

"That's good," she said lamely.

"Yes," the Doctor replied, animated and awkward all at once. "And you slept well also."

"Um, yes, I just indicated that I did."

"Yes, good," he said, shuffling. "All very…. good."

Clara smiled. There were just some situations in which the Doctor repeatedly drowned, and talking about anything humany and concerning feelings was one of them. She threw him a life preserver.

"I'm glad we stayed here instead of the TARDIS," she said, and he didn't even need to grab at the topic. Anything concerning his beloved ship grabbed _him_.

"What? Why?" he asked, frowning.

"Oh, it's nothing personal," Clara told him, pulling her knees to her chest on the bed. "It's just that last time, she turned my bed into a giant marshmallow."

The Doctor sighed. "That was a souffle."

Her eyes widened again. "It was?"

"Yes, she knows you keep trying to make them. She was trying to help show you how to do it."

Clara's eyes rolled. "Bit of a messy way to sleep, that's all."

His brow quirked. "Was that why you were in the shower for two hours last time you spent the night?"

" _You_ try getting dried eggs and cream out of your hair."

"Probably more sanitary than _some_ of the things you've had in your hair," he said, mouth twitching.

"Hey, you never warned me that Laurence of Arabia's camel liked to spit."

He spread his hands. " _All_ camels like to spit."

Her grin was broad. How she loved him. How it would break her heart when he eventually had to leave.

Finally, he smiled, too. "TARDIS is ready when you are."

Clara nodded, her own smile ebbing. It was time to go home. Maybe for the last time.

* * *

When she said her goodbyes to the trio in the conservatory, she'd held on to their hands a bit longer than usual, even Strax. How many more days would she have to run, she wondered, when popping back to Victorian London would be as easy as walking through a big blue door?

As she turned to leave, Vastra had clung to her hand, opening her palm and placing a small book in it.

"What's this?" Clara asked

"An advance copy we asked the Doctor to bring us some time ago," Vastra said, her eyes brimming with amusement.

" _Very_ advance, since it's still prob'ly being written," Jenny added, smirking.

Clara looked down, turning over the spine so that she could read the title. _Peter and Wendy_.

"Just something for your students," Jenny said, smiling.

"Or a reminder, whichever you prefer," Vastra said gently, stepping back and holding on to Jenny's hand.

"And you don't need to worry," Strax added, "I have thoroughly inspected it for nano-robots, and have obliterated them."

Vastra pursed her lips. "Those were probably parchment-mites."

Strax paused. "Ah," he said awkwardly, then brightened. "Well, no matter. They have been obliterated."

Clara laughed, and, unable to help herself, threw her arms around all three of them. "I'll miss you," she said softly, and smiled as she felt their hands, each of them, find a place on her back to tell her goodbye.

"Clara," the Doctor called from the door of the TARDIS. "It's time to go."

She nodded, pulling back so that her eyes could drink them in, then quickly turned to follow him.

* * *

She was still holding the picnic basket that Jenny had filled up with breads and jam for their breakfast-to-go, when the TARDIS groaned to a halt. She picked up her overnight bag that she'd stashed by the stairs, just as the Doctor called out from his position at the controls.

"You won't need that just yet."

She paused, turning back towards him, and setting them both down again. "I won't? I thought you were taking me home."

There was the faintest hint of a smirk on his face as he glanced at her quickly. "Thought I'd keep you a bit longer instead."

There was no way she could help the blush that flooded her cheeks. And yet, she couldn't help smiling.

"So where did you bring us this time?"

"Oh, same earth," he said airily. "In fact, same year as the one we left when I picked you up."

"Oh, really?" she said, unable to hide her disappointment. Even in her resignation, she'd hoped he'd been taking her somewhere wonderful, just to ease the ache of knowing she was going to lose him.

He looked at her knowingly. "It's not your front lawn, Clara," he said, leading her to the doors of the TARDIS. "Although," he began, his face becoming eager, "I suppose you could say I brought you to meet the neighbors."

He flung open both doors of the TARDIS with a flourish, waving a hand outside. "Behold!"

Clara's neck inclined, staring. "Um, what am I beholding?"

The Doctor frowned, then swiveled and poked his head out the door. "Ah, well, you can't see them as well from inside," he explained and quickly took her hand, pulling her over the threshold into the inky blackness.

The touch of his skin against hers nearly filled her whole body, and she tried not to cling to him. Instead, she followed without hesitation, knowing the TARDIS could extend her shields to protect them from any environment.

"Are we in space?" she asked, before noticing the absence of any stars. "I thought you said we were back on earth…?"

"We are," he said, still craning his head around, while Clara followed him. "We're in a lake." He tapped a panel on the side of the TARDIS and suddenly they were bathed in light, illuminating the waves above them.

"A lake? What kind of…. WHOA!" she nearly screamed, just as an enormous creature the side of a small airplane drifted over their heads.

"Loch Ness, to be exact," the Doctor said, while Clara clutched on to his arm for support.

She gaped. "Is that… was that?"

"A Scottish monster?" he said, nodding. "Yes, I figured: just think how much we'll have in common."

He hurried back inside the TARDIS and returned in seconds, the blanket draped over one arm, and the picnic basket in the other.

And suddenly, all she could do was stare and let her soul be filled with the wonder that was traveling with this man she loved.

" _The Loch Ness Monster is real, too_?" she said, nearly laughing.

The Doctor was nonplussed, gazing at the giant creature swimming over them. "Well, it's either real or doing a spectacular impression of it."

She clapped her hands together, watching as four enormous fins sailed over her head once more.

"I don't know what to say," she breathed. "It's beautiful."

There was a low, keening cry, almost like whale-song, and the Doctor looked up.

"He says you've got nice legs, too," he translated, making a gesture to Clara's knees and spreading out the blanket. "Shall we?"

She laughed again, and nodded, meeting his gaze at last.

How would she ever have the strength to let go of him when the time came? How could she ever stop wanting to spend every moment of her life, no matter how long or short, with the Doctor who had run off with her heart. She thought of his memories again and sighed. How she wished the hands he longed to hold were her own, the children running out of the woods _their_ children…

"You're amazing," she said, tears squeezing behind her eyes. But this time, they were from happiness. She was going to happily take every second she could get, and she'd be damned if she spent one of them being sad. Or at least, that's what she'd keep telling herself. Maybe if she tried very hard, she'd manage that trick more than once a day.

The Doctor merely smiled in reply, before sitting down cross-legged on the blanket, which seemed suspended in the midst of the deep currents of Loch Ness. "Chocolate biscuit?"

"Where did you get those?" she said, laughing at him.

"I always keep some on the TARDIS," he said simply. "They're your favourite."

Her smile broadened, her heart swelling at the little things he did to make her so hugely glad to be with him.

"So they are," she said, and she took a bite of biscuit, beaming at him. She sat down beside him, and sighed. "Well, as locations to finish a picnic go, this one isn't bad, either," she confessed, and felt her insides warm when he straightened, looking pleased.

"I'm glad you like it."

"I love it," she said, her face shining, even what she meant was _I love you_. "A whole new wonder for my diary."

He smiled, then, his eyes soft. "I like when that happens," he said. "I like seeing that look come back to your face."

Clara's head tilted, even as she smiled back. "What do you mean?"

The Doctor leaned back on his hands. "The way things used to surprise you," he said slowly. "When the universe was still a mystery, before you figured it all out."

She nudged him, laughing. "Oh, go on, Doctor. You know perfectly well _you're_ the biggest mystery out there, and I haven't managed to figure you out, yet."

He chuckled and they watched the waves above them for a few moments longer. Finally he said, "Clara? Do you think that people can get back their innocence after they've lost it?"

"What do you mean?" she asked, brows knitting together.

His mouth twitched, and she could tell he was thinking of how to phrase his words. "I've been thinking, maybe it's just not possible when you've seen too much."

Clara's eyes widened in surprise. "Of course you can. You of all people should know that."

Now the Doctor's brows furrowed in confusion. "Me? Why would I know it?" he asked, and Clara nearly grinned, amazed he didn't see it..

"Because…well, you already did it," she said. "The man you were, you know, _before_."

He was still frowning. "I'm not following."

And now she did laugh. "Doctor, _really_. When I met you, you played football and rode quadricycles and ate raspberry biscuits as your main source of nutrition." He stared at her, his frown only deepening, and she rolled her eyes. "For heaven's sake, you had a Christmas list that actually had 'pyjamas that light up' on the top of it."

Her smile became bigger, remembering how he'd finally, after all his incarnations, allowed himself to look for the joy in life again.

The Doctor's lips pursed. "That me also destroyed an entire species, got his best friends' child kidnapped by a bunch of assassin-trainers, and nearly blew up his own planet. _Again_."

She smiled tenderly at him, raising her hand to touch his care-worn face. "Yes," she agreed. "And even after all that, after all you lost, you also gave up nearly a thousand years of your life to fix children's broken toys, put on Punch and Judy shows to keep them distracted from the war around them, and do you know what else you did?"

"What?" he asked, his voice impossibly small.

"You never once asked what was in it for you."

He stared at her, and Clara's heart swelled. "Oh, Doctor," she said, unable to help letting her head fall on his shoulder, a sense of wonder filling her, as it always did when she thought of him. "If you could find your innocence again after all that happened to you, then there's hope for us all."

And as she held tightly to him, for the first time in a very long time, she believed there was hope for her, too.

"I hope you're right," he said slowly, as if daring to believe it, too.

"Of course I am," she said, smiling, her gaze lifting again, the waves of the Loch illuminated by the lights of the TARDIS, punctuated only by the shadows of the magnificent beast that swam over them.

And suddenly she realized, there was more than one.

A second, almost larger, animal swam closer to the first, their necks craned towards one another as they nearly danced in the water.

"Oh, my.." she gasped. "There are two of them!"

The Doctor looked at her, surprised. "Of course there are. How do you think they've been around so long?"

Clara laughed. "Well, for one thing, I didn't know they were real, and for another, I guess I just thought that it was like… well, like…" She stopped, looking embarrassed.

"Like me?" he asked, one eyebrow raising.

She bit her lip. "I guess so, yes. Just one of those wonders that's unique."

"Alone, you mean."

She remembered the voice from her dream, of the boy-Doctor who'd cried to her that he was alone. She could see it in his eyes, now, too.

 _You're not alone, Doctor. As long as I breathe, you'll never be alone. And when I help you find the woman you lost, you'll never be lonely again._

But she merely put her hand over his, saw his face relax into a sad sort of smile. She followed his gaze as they looked up again at the two giant creatures, moving in tandem in the water above them.

"Every lonely monster needs a companion," he mused out loud, echoing her, as they watched.

And her heart twisted a bit, because he'd been the one to first say those words, at a time when his arm had been slung around her shoulder, and she'd had to suppress the urge to nuzzle her head into his chest. Only now she knew, he was talking about someone else. After a thousand years alone on Trenzalore, he'd become something more: a man who simply wanted to find his wife, to find the innocence _he'd_ once had, again.

"Basic biology," she whispered back, looking at him.

His gaze lowered and suddenly he smirked, the impish ten-year-old dancing in his eyes. "Wonder what Miss Parks would say to _that_ , eh?" he asked, gesturing at the mythical creatures swimming above.

Just then there was another low, keening cry from above. Clara raised her eyebrows to ask and the Doctor gave another sardonic grin. "I think he's giving her a come-hither look."

She laughed out loud, then sighed, letting her head fall back on his shoulder. If she couldn't keep him forever, she'd be just a bit more greedy, then, with the time she had left of him.

"Can't blame him, really," she murmured. "There's nothing like having someone you love by your side, is there?"

His breathing seemed to slow, and she knew he was thinking of the woman who had captured _his_ heart.

"Nothing like it in the universe," he agreed softly, and she had to force herself not to throw herself in his arms, loving him more than she thought it was possible.

But it didn't matter that she would always be drawn to him like a moth to flame, seemingly like all women he met. It didn't even matter that once (she finally felt some peace in knowing), long ago, he'd been drawn to her, too. What she felt for him, now, the depths to which she loved him, now, were bigger than that, enough to defy even the laws of the universe, and her own heart.

 _When had they ever followed the laws, anyway_ , she thought, smiling once more.

She'd help him find his home, his wife, and the happiness he'd left behind, if it meant bringing him peace at last.

"You don't have to get back anytime soon, do you?" he asked suddenly, his voice tinged with something she couldn't quite define. "We've still got time left, don't we?"

Clara smiled slowly, her head still on his shoulder. "Do you know the best thing about a time machine?" she said archly, raising her eyes to meet his at last.

And now his eyes were dancing, too. "No, what?" he lied.

"You can have all the adventures you want and still be home in time for tea."

He feigned looking surprised. "That so?"

"I have it on the best authority."

The Doctor nodded, the smile overtaking his features. "In that case, I'd say we've got all the time in the world."

Clara grinned at him. "That's what I'm counting on."

They sat together silently, Clara and her Doctor, watching the two mythical monsters swimming overhead, like eternal companions, drifting through a universe that was a little less dark, simply because they had each other.

\- The End-

* * *

 **A/N2: Sigh. Can't we just super-glue them together so that their run never ends? That would work, right? Who's with me, show of hands! *waves***

 **Ah, readers, thank you for being so awesome during the writing of this story. It has meant the big blue world.**

 **And if you want to skip straight to the Happily-Ever-After, go read the "Dessert" chapters of "Dinner", where they actually DO make a good stab at making hybrid babies. See? I told you it would all work out!**


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